#ginny x you

[ilvermornyidiot]

𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 & 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭

CHAPTER NINE — 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬

paring; various x fem!reader

words; 2.9k

series list

note; this chapter is very short so i apologize if that's not what you prefer but it's what i'm doing. i wanted to rewrite this chapter but I'm too exhausted, i feel like my heart's only in this 30% of the time and that's when i write. i can't promise that these next final chapters will be good, but i can promise that i will finish this fic.

-

After making sure Cedric is okay, at least as okay as he can be, you inconspicuously flounder out of the tent to bump right into Harry and Ron, who are too distracted by Harry's success to ask where you came from.

Your heart feels lighter as you watch Harry and Ron interact, happy that they're friends again.

-

In the evening you find yourself joining Harry, Hermione, and Ron to a trip to the Owlery, you assume to deliver a letter to update Sirius on the current events. Harry tells Ron what Siruis had told the two of you during your 'meeting' about Karkaroff.

"Fits, doesn't it?" Ron says as you all enter the Owlery. "Remember what Malfoy said on the train, about his dad being friends with Karkaroff? Now we know where they knew each other. They were probably running around in masks together at the World Cup..." You flinch at the remembrance of the World Cup.

"...I'll tell you one thing, though, Harry, if it was Karkaroff who put your name in the goblet, he's going to be feeling really stupid now, isn't he? Didn't work, did it? You only got a scratch!"

You grimace slightly, if only Cedric had been as fortunate.

"Come here — I'll do it —" Pigwidgeon was excitedly flying around Harry's head and Ron grabbed Pigwidgeon by the foot, holding him in his arms as Harry carefully attached his letter to Pigwidgeon's foot.

Ron continued as Harry finished and he walked to the window. "There's no way any of the other tasks are going to be that dangerous, how could they be?"

You felt a sense of dread wash over you, you predicted the complete opposite, since when do challenges in games get easier as you go?

"You know what? I reckon you could win this tournament, Harry, I'm serious— no offense Y/n, I know you're rooting for Diggory," You roll your eyes at his comment but Hermione smiles and you can't bring yourself to feel any sort of contempt towards his light handed jab.

Harry frowns slightly but corrects his expression so Ron doesn't take notice. Hermione's face is serious now as she speaks with her arms filed across her chest, "Harry's got a long way to go before he finishes this tournament, if that was the  first task, I hate to think what's coming next."

"Right little ray of sunshine, aren't you?" Ron says his eyebrows furrowed slightly with Pigwidgeon still in his hands. "You and Professor Trelawney should get together sometime."

You crack a smile even though hearing your almost exact thoughts out loud had tripled your anxiety.

He threw Pigwidgeon out of the window, a brief moment of panic seizing you before the owl pulls himself up. You watch until he fades into the dark sky.

"Well, we'd better downstairs for your surprise party, Harry —Fred and George should have nicked enough food from the kitchens by now."

-

To say the Gryffindor common room was overwhelming would be an understatement. It all seemed to go off at Harry's arrival and unfortunately for you, your's as well as you stand by his side in momentary confusion.

You try to take in everything at once, the gangle of people, the food and drinks hoarding every surface in the room, the fireworks, and a banner of what you assume is Harry flying around the Horntail on his broom.

You hold back a snort at the ones with Cedric, who's auburn hair is on fire.

You go to join Ron and Hermione who sit down at a table but some of your adrenaline from the day is starting to wane and your stomach begs for even a crumb of food.

You pick up some food with Harry, sharing a small smile that makes his heart miss a beat before you both sit by your friends.

"Blimey. this is heavy!" Lee Jordan picks up Harry's golden egg with some struggle, empathizing his point.

"Open it Harry, go on! Let's just see whats see whats inside it!" Lee encourages Harry eagerly, gesturing the egg towards him.

Hermione frowns and you look down to your half eaten food, biting your lip to stop your growing smile.

"He's so supposed to work out the clue on his own," Hermione remarks haughtily. "It's the tournament rules..."

"I was supposed to work out how to get past the dragon on my own too," Harry says in a voice low enough that only you and Hermione can hear him.

You can see Hermione's guilty grin out the corner of your eye but you wear a tiny smirk, hey—you weren't the hypocrite here.

"Yeah, go on Harry, open it!" Several people cheered, Hermione's efforts in vain. It's not like they were helping, they were fulled by their own personal curiosity of what was inside the giant egg?

Lee passes Harry the egg and you watch on the edge of your seat with a breath of anticipation stuck in your throat as Harry follows the groove that circles around the egg before he pries it open with his fingernails.

From your seat right next to him you could see that it was empty and just as confusion began to overtake you, it was quickly thrown out the window as a loud screechy wail burst from the egg in Harry's grasp.

You squeeze your eyes shut as your hands automatically clasp your ears, curling into yourself. The effort is fruitless as the horrid noise can still be heard. Someone yells to shut it and quickly Harry obeys, looking down at the egg with confusion then slowly back up at you, you who has slowly removed your hands— your eyes had flung open as soon as he shut the bloody thing, as your peers already began to speculate what the noise meant.

"Sounded like a banshee... Maybe you've got to get past one of those next Harry!" Seamus says a little too excitedly for your taste and you frown, your eyes darting between who ever speaks and the egg still in Harry's grasp.

"It was someone being tortured!" Neville cried, his face ashen. Your eyebrows knitted together at the sausage rolls sprawled around his feet, he must have dropped them in fright. "You're going to have to fight the Cruciatus Curse!"

"Don't be a prat Neville, that's illegal," George says with his arms crossed, a disproving glare crossing his features. "They wouldn't use the Cruciatus Curse on the champions. I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing...maybe you've got to attack him while he's in the shower Harry."

You laugh quietly into your palm, your head drooped down, at his remark, Percy's singing had been your unlikely alarm before. George side eyes you with a smirk, knowing you're completely helpless to tell him off.

"Want a jam tart, Hermione?" Fred offers to a rightfully suspicious Hermione. You raise your eyebrows at George silently asking if the tarts were trick free.

He shakes his head just as Fred confirms, "I haven't done anything to them, it's the custard creams you've got to watch—"

Neville spits out something, a custard cream you suppose from his panicked expression.

You shake your head with a small grin, the twins were always highly entertaining. Speaking of Weasleys you wondered where Ginny was. Before you could search for her, your ears had already unintentionally checked back into the conversation.

Hermione had a tart in her hand and you grabbed one as well, narrowing your eyes at Fred's smile before taking a small bite.

"...get all this from the kitchens, Fred?" Fred's eyes averted from you to her, his smile only growing.

His voice is squeaky and high pitched, "'Anything we can get you, sir, anything at all!' They're dead helpful...get me a roast ox if I said I was peckish." You roll your eyes at his impression, surprised Hermione isn't shouting at him.

Instead she asks him, "How do you get in there?".

"Easy, concealed door behind a painting of a bowl of fruit. Just tickle the pear, and it giggles and—" Fred stops suddenly, a glint of hesitation in his eye. "Why?"

"Nothing." Hermione says quickly, her voice just as squeaky as Fred's impression.

"Going to try and lead the house-elves out on strike now, are you?" George probed, leaning forward slightly. " Going to give up all the leaflet stuff and try and stir them up in rebellion?"

People around you snickered and Hermione didn't give them an answer. You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed over your chest, an unamused glare pointed directly at the twins.

"Don't you go upsetting them and telling them they've got to take clothes and salaries!" Fred cries, a hint of a warning in his voice. "You'll put them off their cooking!"

Suddenly there's a squeak and you turn your head just in time to see Neville disappear, a large canary left in his wake. You clasped a rather guilty hand over mouth but your laughter was drowned out from the peels that escaped almost everyone in the room.

"Oh— sorry Neville!" Fred shouted, not looking very sorry at all. "Forgot— it was the custard creams we hexed—"

Soon Neville was back to normal, apart from the feathers and Fred and George were already promoting the damned things.

You left the celebration early, guilt pooling in your stomach at Harry, Hermione, and Ron's disappointed faces but you couldn't spend the night there so you started your reluctant journey to your bed.

...

You couldn't stop the doubt that settled in your head and without your permission made themselves home in the darkest corners on it, after all, maybe Cedric made a mistake?

You were both so busy you rarely saw each other, adding to your insecurities was that you rarely crossed paths in public. What if he didn't want to be seen with you? What if he wasn't serious? The mental taunts were exhausting, and you knew something had to change before you gave out.

As you stalked the corridors, already dreading your next class, someone quickly pulled you into a small hallway off from the main one you were just traversing. Your eyes widen and you struggle in their grasp— "Whoa, love, it's just me."

All fight left your body as your eyes adjusted and you looked up into Cedric's pretty grey eyes, peering down at you, having the audacity to look concerned when he just scared the crap out of you. You huffed as your hands hung limply at your side, Cedric laughing lightly now that he knew you were fine.

You crossed your arms, your eyes softening when he stepped closer to you, pulling you into his embrace and leaving you no choice but to accept it, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"Merlin Ced, you scared the bloody hell out of me!" You said into his chest, feeling the vibrations of his warm infectious laugh against your cheek.

You look up at him, watching the way his eyes crinkle at the corners as sincerity oozes from his every pore, "I'm sorry love, I really am, I didn't mean to startle you."

"It’s alright, I suppose," You mumble sheepishly towards the floor and he smiles.

The feelings of happiness began to fade and your doubts and insecurities started to rise to the surface. You hadn't realized your gaze was stuck on the floor with a frown etching it's way onto your face until he spoke.

He lifted your chin with his hand, looking, more like searching your eyes for something. His brows creased and his eyes were filled with a sudden sadness that made your stomach sink.

"What's wrong?" You avert your eyes, finding the floor to be highly compelling. But you can't escape his eyes, his gaze burning into your face.

You take a step back, his hand falling limply at his side as you hug yourself, finding yourself feeling self-conscious under his unwavering gaze of sympathy. "It's nothing, it's silly at best..." You say, your words not even convincing to you.

Cedric is unfortunately undeterred from your poor attempt at an excuse, he almost looks like he's pouting at you when you sneak a glance in his direction, ducking your head to hide your small smile.

He takes a hesitant step towards, testing to see if he's overstepping his boundaries. You don't move so he takes another step, then another until you can feel the faint exhale of his breath on your face.

"I just feel like, I don't know how to put it into words," You confess honestly, peering up into his eyes as your hands twist anxiously.

He frowns, "Are you...sacred? Ashamed?" You frantically shake your head. "No no, nothing like that I— I really fancy spending time with you and calling you my boyfriend."

He smiles and a giant blush spreads over his face from both ears. The sight gives you some sort of confidence, your insecurities starting to feel silly, like you said before.

"I just, what if one day you decide you can do way better then me? Or the more you get to know me you start to find me irritating?" Your hands gesture the entire time you speak, eventually falling at your side when you no longer have anything to say.

Cedric's eyebrows furrow and there's a crease on his forehead that you would have found endearing if not the certain circumstances.

"I fancy you too Y/n, I enjoy every second spent in your company, you're too good for me." He says with a shake of his head.

He gently grabs your hands, "I can tell you how much you mean to me for the next fifteen minutes but I don't think that's what you fancy."

You laugh and shake his head and he watches you in amusement. "It would be rather nice..." You joke and he laughs, a full head tipped back sort of laugh that makes your stomach curl.

"Maybe if we spent more time together? Not all the time of course—" You say hurriedly and he laughs again.

"Whatever you say love," You roll your eyes but continue with a small grin. "Little things y'know? Like walking me to class and spending time with you and your friends, stuff like that."

He nods in understanding and you can tell he's taking your words to heart. Now you're convinced he's too good for you.

But you're okay with that.

Especially when he leans down and kisses you so tenderly and yet with so much passion that your skin feels hot as if you're on fire.

...

December was as cruel and unforgiving as each year before. Doubts of your relationship with Cedric faded into dust, carried away by the cold winds and off into the sea.

You had met his friends who welcomed you with open arms, always giving you a friendly wave in the halls. And best of all, Cedric walking you to also every class, holding your hand and your books in his other.

News of the Yule Ball spread like wildfire, reaching you on a measly Monday, right after classes you were free to dump your books on your desk, slip out of your shoes, and belly flop dramatically on your bed with sigh muffled by your mattress.

You enjoyed a good ten seconds of bliss before the door lurched opened then shut with such ferocity you lifted your head in a bit of panic.

"Y/n Avery!" Tina shouted, well more like a blur of energy that happened to share her voice, launching herself onto the spot right next to you.

You laid back down, rolling your eyes with a small smile at her antics. But Tina did not share your lack of enthusiasm and quickly recovered from her fall, her next mission: getting you to talk.

"Did you hear? Did you hear?!" Her big brown eyes and never ending energy strangely reminding you of a puppy.

You quirk a brow, shifting sideways to face her, propping yourself up with your arm. "Hear about what?" You ask exasperatedly, she ruined your down time but for Tina to be this excited...you were naturally curious.    

She stared at you blankly, she was not impressed. She huffed and gave in, "Hello, there's a ball happening?! A ball! This is so exciting!" You watched her squeal with faint amusement.

"Well... I thought you'd be more excited, I mean you get to go with Cedric..." She said almost shyly.

You gasped, it's not like your relationship was secret, he walked you to class everyday and you could not miss the glares thrown your way by song of the younger girls, but you didn't except her to be so bold.

You gaped, "You don't know that, besides it was just announced and he hasn't asked me..." You trail off sadly, picking at your bedsheet with little interest.

Tina grasps your hand, a pout on her face, merlin were her pouts your weakness, "I didn't mean it like that, he would be a real wanker not to."

You giggled and she smiled as well, a tentative one that barely showed her teeth. You decide to not put much thought into it, you're almost positive Cedric will ask you, and you've decided you're only moving forward— no more doubts.

"I suppose someone's all ready asked you?" To your surprise she casts her eyes downwards, a flush covering her ears that is barely noticeable.

You smile genuinely, your friend was nervous over her date, for once not boasting to either you or Angie about them.

"I'm happy for you, really." She looks up and smiles mumbling a small thanks.

You bite your lip, weighing your options. You risk it, you just have to know who has the power to make Tina shy.

You lean into her, smirking as you realize how your roles have been reversed.

"So, who is it?"

;

End of chapter nine

A/n I’m no longer doing a tag list because no one on it seemed to interact with my last post and copy and pasting all of this stuff is tiring so i apologize, you can always turn notifications on.

#cedric x reader #cedric x you #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory x female reader #cedric x y/n #cedric diggory x you #cedric diggory x y/n #ginny x reader #ginny x you #ginny x y/n #ginny weasley x reader #ginny weasley x you #ginny weasley x y/n #ravenclaw!reader #cause & effect #x reader #reader insert #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter reader insert

[miryum]

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.”

#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle #reader #x reader #tom riddle #ginny weasley #harry potter #lorenzo berkshire #bellatrix lestrange #hermione granger #pansy parkinson #shes a great aunt #draco malfoy #sirius black #remus lupin #blaise zabini #theodore nott #albus severus potter #arranged marriage #one bed trope #enemies to lovers #greek mythology #victorian au #manipulative parents #Tom isn't Mattheo's brother #hope yall like

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity Masterlist

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

series status: ongoing

“serendipity is the phenomenon of discovering something interesting or valuable by chance”

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. All characters are aged up to be over 18. and bellatrix isn't mattheo's mother in this fic (just fyi)

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): 18+ content, angst, fluff, some canon compliance, some canon divergence, typical wizarding world violence, war, torture, drugging, hospitals, familial problems, mean!harry, mean!ron....

** indicates smut warning

~∞~ chapter one

chapter summary: on the trainride to your sixth year, your friends give you a proposition that you can't refuse.

~∞~ chapter two

chapter summary: it's your first day back as a sixth year student. Classes are more intense and your first lesson with Mattheo ensues.

~∞~ chapter three

chapter summary: the first Hogsmeade trip of the year has a rather unpleasant ending.

~∞~ chapter four

chapter summary: after you end up confined to the Hospital Wing, you're surprised when Professor Dumbledore pays you a visit.

~∞~ chapter five

chapter summary: Mattheo has been avoiding you. You find and confront him after a frustrating week.

~∞~ chapter six **

chapter summary: the growing tension between you and Mattheo snaps. He reveals something about yourself that you has scarcely any prior knowledge of.

~∞~ chapter seven

chapter summary: joyful dinner parties and a switch in point of view. Two juxtaposing starts to the christmas holidays.

~∞~ chapter eight **

chapter summary: you're given plenty of revelations: all equally as daunting as the other.

~∞~ chapter nine

chapter summary: Ginny ambushes you in the library and Ron's birthday is off to a delirious start.

~∞~ chapter ten

chapter summary: in the aftermath of Ron's poisoning, Harry learns a thing or two about where your loyalties lie when he overhears your private conversation with the headmaster.

~∞~ chapter eleven

chapter summary: intent on avoiding him, you underestimate just how desperate Mattheo is to be around you.

~∞~ chapter twelve

chapter summary: new friendships are formed and you finally learn to control your abilities. Mattheo comes to a life altering realisation.

~∞~ chapter thirteen **

chapter summary: idk how to summarise this but i will say it's pure smut...enjoy

~∞~ chapter fourteen

chapter summary: friendships are rekindled and you save Draco from certain death in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, igniting your powers in the process.

~∞~ chapter fifteen

chapter summary: now fully recovered, Draco has a task to complete. The fate of the Wizarding World hangs in the precipice of his actions.

~∞~ chapter sixteen

chapter summary: after a startling and gutting discovery. secrets are revealed and alliances are questioned as Voldemort's tyranny begins to fester into the beginnings of another war.

~∞~ chapter seventeen

chapter summary: Dumbledore's funeral reveals new allies as you navigate a world without its protector.

~∞~ chapter eighteen (coming soon!!)

series oneshots/headcannons:

~∞~ tulips & starlight – valentines day drabble

~∞~ serendipity hcs (mattheo) – a glimpse at his life pre sixth year

~∞~ invisible string – bonus scene from chapter 16 **

series taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag, reblogs of the individual posts have an extended taglist)

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff @babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony @dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf @devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira @foxboyapologist @lafrone @lovely-maryj @nromanovaswife @leeknows-wife @dracygf @wildlyobserving @ravenclawprincess33 @melllinaa @vellicora @lantsovheiress @emiliahoward @stunkbiggu @vcosette @prongsprincessworld @mattiesgirl @rachmmb @x-kermit-x @sun-fiower-seed @cas-planet @certaindreampost @weirdowithnobeardo @mikalovesicecream @sunasbbie @rainy-darling @faeriepigeons @lovely-blackinnon @hiireadstuff @gimalo135 @elsafromcabinsix @moonlightreader649 @blueshome @nopedefe @spencerreidsthings @navs-bhat @agent-tempest @magimtz23 @y0urm0m12 @sbrn0905 @leona-hawthorne @whatsupb18 @moni-cah @taylorann2013 @unstablereader @gisellesprettylies @nat1221

#mattheo riddle x reader #serendipity series #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x you #harry potter #ravenclaw x slytherin #theo nott #hermione granger #slytherin boys #pansy parkinson #ron weasley #theodore nott x reader #mattheo riddle smut #ginny weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader #x reader series #half blood prince #blaise zabini #enzo berkshire #harry potter x reader #hermione granger x reader

[priniya]

🔮 OPPOSITES ATTRACT

synopsis. a quiet slytherin and a loud gryffindor find themselves on a chilly evening, which results in something unexpected — at least for people around them. the oldest weasley’s daughter finds herself infatuated with nott’s only child and vice versa, even if their worlds seem so different, being apart just doesn’t feel right.

notes. theodore nott x weasley!reader. slightly sunshine x grumpy (pretend you’re a ginger if ur not). part 2 containing the date, thoughts?

theodore nott never thought he would be given a chance to love and be loved, upon all the terrible mistakes he has made. and maybe it seemed silly for a sixteen years old to say, but with an upcoming war, he wasn’t so sure if he could live through it.

theodore nott never thought he would have someone to call his own, someone to help him, when times get tough or someone who would understand him wordlessly. to be fair, theodore nott never thought he deserved anything like that, so the surprise on his face, when he found someone who was involuntarily willing to be his person was enormous.

he was walking around the crowded streets of the city, the dim lighting allowing him to see muggles running around with different expression on every other face he has passed — some of them were happy, cheering the slowly creeping holiday on them, some of them were exhausted and/or angry, probably from trying to find a perfect gift for someone and failing. just watching them gave him some sort of comfort, he had never had to look for gifts too much, his father wasn’t keen on being all festive and christmas was just any other day. the exception itself was looking for presents for his friends, which never had troubled him so much he looked exhausted.

he was in his thoughts, when he felt like he collided with someone. his eyebrows were squinted as he looked down on the red-haired girl, whose face was all red, either from cold or embarrassment. though, there was something so familiar about the girl that made him study her face for a brief second, the tea stain on his unzipped jacket didn’t seem to bother him at all, not as much as the familiarity of the girl.

“oh my god, i am so sorry, sir.” she let out ashamed that she didn’t look where she was going and that she probably ruined someone’s evening with her no sugar, lemon tea. it was then, when the familiar girl finally gave up and looked at the person she rudely bumped into.

“nott?” her words weren’t coated with layers of disgust and regret that out of all the people in london that night, she bumped into theodore nott. her words had surprised and confused undertones, almost as if she didn’t mind seeing him there. now, he obviously recognized his attacker — y/n weasley, a girl he sits behind in history of magic, a twin sister of potter’s best friend, someone who should hate him with burning passion.

“are you alright?” redhead’s question took him off guard.

theo was expecting something else, like a mockery of the fact that he was walking amongst muggles without hexing them all. though to be honest, theodore never hated muggles, well, yeah, he said some stupid shit, when he was younger and he was far from proud, but it was the need to appease his father. he definitely didn’t expect to see the worried manner in her, her brows scrunched as she tried to read his emotions, while standing in front of him in silence.

“theo…?” repeated y/n. he wasn’t alright and he didn’t know if he should show it. for merlin’s sake, he really wanted to get so much things out of his system, but venting to a weasley? he knew better than that — she would probably go around, and spread out the word about everything she heard from him.

nott was about to mumble something in response, when her eyes flickered with concern, demolishing all his justification why shouldn’t he talk to her for longer than needed. she was genuine, not caring that ron and harry weren’t on a good terms with him, she wanted to know, and help if possible.

so, theo simply gave up the act. “uh, no. not really.” he confessed, confirming all the suspicions she got to gather from observing him for a few minutes, when he thought of an answer. her expression changed from concerned to slightly sad, even.

before the boy could realize, he was sat in one of the small coffee shops beside her, a half empty, steamy cup of hot chocolate in his hands as they talked. something was so incredibly off about the way they conversed, first time in a while, he never wanted to conversation to end, just like when he was talking to his friends. his body itched at the thought that soon both of them would have to come to their respective houses and the talk would be just a memory that never happened again.

he had to admit that y/n’s presence was soothing. it was like the smell of a freshly printed new book, a cigarette on a foggy morning, a sensation of someone’s nails gently scratching the inside of his palm. the last one was a habit his mom developed to calm him down before she died, leaving him with an aching need for someone to find out about his perk and do it when he needs.

her muffled laughter filled his ears as he watched the girl cover her lips with a palm, he couldn’t help but smile. the gloomy atmosphere that he brought with his tiny vent was long gone, since she declared it her mission to make him feel better. so, since he wasn’t a big talker himself, she let him listen to all the stories from when she was growing up. even though he never experienced a family like hers, a family that cared for each other, it was comforting.

his eyes darted to the clock hung up on a wall, followed by hers and a long sigh that left his lips. his fingers ran through his curls as he parted his lips to bid goodbyes, though y/n was faster. “we could meet up here some other time, if you want.” she gave him a shy smile, the one he never thought he would see on her face.

y/n weasley wasn’t the shy type of girl, she was a big talker, a smart-ass with witty comebacks and a obnoxiously loud aura coating her small frame, though right now, upon his gaze that wandered around her face for quite some time now, she grew shyer.

“uh.” stuttered theo. “yeah, i guess it’s a good idea.” his reply made her smile go bigger, and in the back of his head, it felt like a reward for the decision he just made, some kind of reassurance that he did something good.

“perfect.” she grinned, taking the two of their cups and taking them to the shop’s kitchen, revealing that either she works there, or she’s just insanely crazy for barging into someone’s workplace as an unwanted stranger. “there’s a fireplace in the back.” weasley added, taking his hand in hers before he could even refuse (he wouldn’t though).

the tips of her long nails gently grazed his palm, when she led him the back, greeting a few of her coworkers. her touch on his skin ached, almost burnt, although if that’s what the insides of a normal, fireplace without floo powder felt like, he could grow to like it, only if a part of her body was pressed against his. few minutes later theo’s hand felt empty as he watched her disappear in green flames, having bid their goodbyes.

***

theo hated that feeling. this warm, strange feeling that coated his heart whenever he thought about the obnoxious gryffindor, who he met at those muggle streets. nevertheless, he found himself unable to think about someone else. he was replying to a letter pansy has sent him, and the only thing he had on his mind was y/n, he wondered if ginny told her about her little getaways with theo’s best friend, if all her brothers got back to their house, and — if she thought about him.

his hands throbbed. his fingers wrapped tightly around the quill, before putting it down on his deck. why on earth would he text her? it was one accidental meeting at some crowded street, one conversation that shouldn’t mean anything to them.

nott squeezed his eyes, the muscles on his face tensed as he focused on the paper in front of him, scribbling down a few words in his neat handwriting. a long sigh has left his lips, his eyes tracing the sentence he wrote for her. shit, why would he even do that? if any of his friends knew, he’d have been doomed — one weasley hanging around their friend group was enough, but he didn’t want to push draco nor blaise’s limits.

on a christmas’ eve, he went out for another walk, slightly hoping in the back of his mind that he’d accidentally bump into her again. this time, theodore would make sure to hear her laugh more often, to see her teeth, when she smiles or to watch as she gets shyer upon his gaze on her face.

his feet got him into a familiar looking café, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion — he couldn’t pinpoint from where he knew the place — and looked around. then, he heard it.

“theo!” a female voice rang in his ears. the boy turned his face, a smile slipping onto his lips as he realized where he was. the god damned café y/n was working at. “what can i get you?” a grin spread across her face, visibly delighted to see him there, almost as if she hoped for it.

her forearms laid on the counter as her body leaned a little closer, her hair pinned up in a ponytail that probably got ruined during her shift from running around the place, having a chat with each customer every now and then, a pinkish tint on her cheeks, maybe from the heat in the back or maybe, because he was there.

it took him a second to realize that he was staring with his mouth slightly parted. “uh—” he stuttered, getting a small, barely audiable giggle in response. “i just came to see you.” he blurted out. thank god his ears were covered by the beanie, because just by saying those six words got him all flustered.

“theo.” his name sounded so well coming from her. theodore wanted to hear it again, again, and again. it was melodic, like most beautiful song he’s ever heared. how could he get so whipped after one hangout?

“i hoped you’d come by.” she confessed shyly. “i have something for you in the back, could you give me five minutes? i gotta tell the manager i’m taking a break.” she beamed at him sweetly, rushing off to the back, taking off the green apron that hung on her waist in the meantime.

when she came back, she was still wearing the café’s shirt with a small, green logo, black jeans, and was carefully walking towards his table with a neatly wrapped package and on a top of that a plate with a big piece of some sort of chocolate cake, two drinks (the same as last time), and a cookie. her hair wasn’t in a ponytail anymore, ginger strands falling into her shoulders as she gave him the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

“you– you got me something?” a question left theo’s mouth, leaving him all surprised — the strange feeling warming him up from the inside. he took a big sip of the hot chocolate in front of him, hardly minding that he burnt his tongue, he didn’t want to say anything stupid. “y/n, we talked once and you… got me something?” he asked once again, not believing his own eyes.

the girl just smiled wider, passing the box towards him. “uh. yeah.” she answered, shrugging. “last time, you said that you never really celebrated christmas the right way, so… please open it.” she tried explaing herself, but gave up at the end, pushing the box further with her fingertips. “please?”

shit.

if she didn’t ask, if she didn’t give him those eyes and that smile. maybe he would be able to refuse, think of some lame excuse that wouldn’t hurt her feelings and give her the box back. but y/n was so sweet, and thought of him hard enough to prepare him a gift.

for half a second, theodore could see something flicker in her eyes, when his lean fingers gently pulled the green ribbon, ripping the gift paper afterwards. the gift turned out to be a sweater, a hand-made one that made the feeling come back to him.

the sweater was dark green, in the similar shade of his tie or the snake symbol on his robes, it had a large, dark blue letter T with a silver outline. his eyes scanned the piece of clothing, the corner of his lips going slightly upwards. “you got me your mom’s iconic sweater?” asked theo.

his mind was filled with different thoughts and emotions right now. he could never call y/n weasley a sweet girl, not because it wasn’t true, but because it would be an understatement — she was the sweetest, or at least somewhere in that range. his cheeks almost hurt from smiling at her, and never in his life nott had felt it.

“actually…” her cheeks started getting a little more pinkish than usual. “it’s based on my mom’s sweaters, i did it on my own. it might not be perfect—" y/n started rambling in nervousness, afraid that the boy won’t be happy about getting a meaningless piece of fabric from her.

“y/n, i love it.” theodore’s words were like honey to y/n’s ears, she gave him a small smile, not really expecting him to gently grab her hand out of sudden. the reason behind it? even theo didn’t know (probably to ease her nerves).

when he realized what he did, he wanted to take his hand back and mutter a quiet apology, the crime scene awkward as much as only possible. although, from the corner of his eye, he noticed that the pink on her face intensified, few more minutes of skin-to-skin contact, and she would turn into a tomato, so his hand stayed on hers, taking the chance and intertwining their fingers together.

“would you– uh,” the redhead started, stumbling over her own words, easily losing focus, each time his thumb stroked her hand, a tiny smirk hovering over his lips. “like to, uh, come here once in a while, you know… until the break’s over? keep me company, maybe?”

and he did. how couldn’t he? this girl was constantly on his mind ever since she bumped into him on the streets and spent literal hours at the café.

although, beside just keeping her company during the winter break — but also at school. he grew so fond of her (and believe me, it worked both ways) that cutting their fresh friendship short was something he couldn’t let happen. so… even though her younger sister was already swaying her way into theodore’s friend group, y/n seemed like a different topic.

theodore nott liked sharing. as unbelievable as it sounds, he really did. whenever he had something he enjoyed, he was willing to share, he was the type of person to give away his last cigarette to one of his friends, but the thought of sharing y/n weasley never crossed his mind. he wanted her all to himself, so… their hangouts always contained just the two of them.

small study dates in the library, late night walks around the courtyard, meet-ups in the room of requirement, picnics in the astronomy tower, while smoking some pot and cigarettes together.

back then, it felt strictly platonic. even if they called it their little dates, nott had a feeling they weren’t moving past the friendship line, while his emotions towards the girl were getting more and more serious. nevertheless, theodore was confident, but not confident enough to ask her out — to confess his silly crush without the fear creeping up on him that y/n would reject him and turn his dreams into nightmares.

***

the weather outside was getting better with each day until spending time inside the castle was unbearable. it was around the time, theo decided to finally push his luck and ask the girl of his dream out. ever since he woke up, he was nervously fidgeting with everything that got to his hands and when then classes were to start, it only got worse.

“you alright, theo?” a whisper left y/n’s mouth as she stood next to him in potions, her elbow nudging him lightly, trying to catch his attention.

merlin. the way his name sounded so wonderful on her tongue. if it wasn’t for the small attention-grabber, he would definitely accidentally ignore the question to daydream about how sweetly her voice is.

“no, i mean– yes, yes i am.” he stuttered. “i just– can i ask you a question?” she nodded, making his stomach turn around. “would you, uh– like to go out to hogsmeade with me? like on a date?” the question left his lips.

his throat went dry as he waited years for an answer (which was actually just about two seconds, theo’s brain just got really dramatic from stress), legs giving up, so he had to lean his palms on the table.

“f’course.” weasley grinned, not minding the blush that spread all over her face, just from the ask. “i thought you’d never ask, really.” she giggled, turning her eyes away for a second, before flashing him another beam of hers.

nott’s face was now bright pink. “i– what?” he was struggling to form a logical sentence. “you wanted me to–?” the boy was supposed to finish his thought, though it didn’t really sit well with snape who interrupted their little talk, postponing it until the evening.

the two of them were walking somewhere outside, laughing about something so insignificant, when the situation from classes popped into his mind. “so… about that date. you really want to?” asked nott.

he expected any kind of answer — yes, no, maybe, you should guess, nah — whatever was only possible. however, the feeling of her lips on his wouldn’t cross his mind. she kissed him. y/n has kissed him, leaving him breathless, when she pulled away.

“does that answer your question?” redhead chuckled, her fingers still curled up against the collar of his white shirt. he shook his head, still mind-blown. “yes, theodore faustus nott, i was dying to hear you ask me out on a date. whatever we have between us, i wanted it to move forward and go on a date with you.”

she laughed. “you really think i’d spend hours crotcheting a sweater for a guy i met few days earlier if i didn’t feel something? theo, i almost passed out when you touched my hand months ago.” another laugh left her lips that were now so close to his, clouding his mind with one certain thing.

upon hearing all those words, the boy couldn’t stop himself anymore, he pressed his mouth against hers, savouring the moment. cherishing the fact that she wanted him like he wanted her.

“the date is still a thing, yeah?” y/n smiled as her nose brushed his.

“you’re gonna love it.” he answered, grinning.

#theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #pansy parkinson x ginny weasley #harry potter fic #harry potter fanfiction #theodore nott fic #theo nott x you #theo nott fic #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys fic #theo nott rec

[wolfstardaughter-jj]

~new year's eve party at the Weasley's~

Y/n, who's extremely drunk: Harold, I have something to tell you but it's a secret okay!

Harry who is very sober: Y/n, I won't tell a soul.

~later on~

Harry: RON! RON! RON! Y/N HAS A CRUSH ON ONE OF YOUR BROTHERS!

Ron who is also very very drunk: BLOODY HELL! SERIOUSLY?!? ohhhh I wonder who it is... Percy? No he's a git...Charlie?! No, she doesn't really know him that well... BILL?!? Wait no, he's engaged... George? Wait or is it Fred? Wait which one of them is which....oh crap....*big gasp* WHAT IF ITS GINNY?! Wait no, she's my sis-

Harry:... It's Fred

Ron: OHHHHHH!!!

Ron:

Ron: which one of them is Fred again?

#wolfstar daughter #y/n lupin black #drunk #harry potter #drunk ron Weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #ron weasley #charlie weasley #bill weasley #ginny weasley #percy weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley x you #new years eve #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #wolfstar au #remus lupins daughter #sirius blacks daughter #moony #padfoot #marauders #this definitely happened #and it actually happened to me #but its fine #freddie<3

[writersblockedx]

Stalker

Pairing - Marcus Baker x Fem!Reader Summary - Y/n is pushed to confront the boy who can't seem to stop staring at her at school. Warnings - Alcohol & drug use Words - 2K

Masterlist

It had been happening all week. In the middle of talking, doing work or walking down the hallways, Y/n would look up, finding the same pair of eyes trailing her. In the beginning, she must have convinced herself she was imagining it. Marcus Baker wasn't one for wanting to self-illicit anything close to a social interaction. So she ignored it.

Then it started to seem like the boy's eyes were attached to her every move. Y/n had been in the midst of listening to Maxine go on about her most recent date (which hadn't ended well) when she noted the feeling of someone watching. Her back was pressed against the wall, Abby at her side as her gaze found Marcus once again. He didn't look away. His eyes lingered as if he weren't fazed she had caught him.

"Is he doing it again?" Snapped Abby. Her tone wasn't so loud that Marcus could hear from the other side of the hall, but the girl certainly wasn't trying to hide her words.

"Doing what?" Nora joined in.

Y/n lightly shook her head, shifting so she was no longer facing the shaggy-haired boy. "Don't worry about it."

"No." Abby cut in, gaining the attention of more of their friends. "It's getting creepy. If he likes you, he needs to come over and say something." Nora nodded in agreement.

"Can we just leave it?" She requested, but it was never that easy.

"Leave what?" Max questioned, peering over with wiggling eyebrows.

Y/n refused to answer. So Abby did it for her, "Your brother's obsessed with Y/n." The girl glared over at her best friend, wishing she ended this before it hadn't gotten to this point.

Max gave a sharp, mocking gasp, "My brother...and my best friend?" She spoke back to herself. "How scandalous!" Then she relaxed and let out a chuckle. "I mean, I'm surprised you've only just realised his obsession."

Y/n's brows raised at her words, "What?"

Another chuckle left Max's lips. "Oh, yeah." She said. "You should see how jittery he gets when I say Y/n is coming over. It's like he's on crack or something. Think he's too scared to actually talk to you but at the same time, surprised he's kept it in his pants this long."

"So, he just won't stop staring?" Nora inquired.

"Strange way to flirt." Abby added.

"Can we just forget about it?" Y/n asked with a pleasant smile. "I'm sure he'll find some other girl to swoon over."

Max wandered over, throwing an arm around Y/n, looking down at her sympathetically. "You know I love you, which is why I'm telling you, this thing he has for you, isn't something recent."

"It isn't?"

"You really have no idea, do you?" Y/n shook her head. "He's been in love with you for like a year. You're gonna have to let him down lightly. Or don't, he could use a punch to his ego."

Y/n swallowed the lump which had grown in her throat. Still with Max's arm slung around her shoulder, the girl slowly looked back. She located Marcus within a split second. He was still sat in the same place, his eyes still lingering over her and in an act to play off the last five minutes, she flash a small smile. Something which, while it took a moment, was returned to her.

Nothing more happened for the rest of the week. Just glances. Some of which were now prompted by Y/n's eyes as she started staring at him first. Granted, when she did that it was in wonder if he was already looking at her. Which, most times, he was.

Friday rolled around and while Y/n was relieved for the weekend, she couldn't escape the party Max had planned. In celebration of the part she received in the newest play, she begged Ellen to let her host another party in their house. After enough asking, the woman agreed and for another Friday night, a house was littered in cheap fairy lights, illegal substances and dancing teenagers.

"Isn't this so great?" Whined Maxine as she tumbled into her friend. "This was such a good idea."

Y/n wasn't nearly as drunk as half the people around her. "Sure, Max." She replied.

"You know what else is a good idea-"

"No, no, no, Max you know it's not a good idea." The girl was already reaching for her phone, desperate for the urge to message her ex.

Y/n tried to wiggle her fingers between Max's, but it was no use, the message was already being typed. "It's just- it's one message. Its closure, Y/n." She wasn't sure who Max was trying to convince with that.

The girl hummed, still trying to take a grasp of her phone. "And you will kill me in the morning if I don't stop you right now." She said. Her eyes scanned over the room, widening as they spotted Abby and Nora talking to the boys not too far away. "Abby! Nora!" She called across the blaring music.

The two girls glanced over. And all they needed was a glance to realise what was occurring. The pair came rushing over and suddenly, it became a fight for the phone. And for a second, it looked like Max might be winning. "No, no, it's fine." She tried to convince.

Abby wiggled her fingers between Max's cheering as she got grip on the phone and Max's hand slid away. "Finally." The girl huffed. "Would you get her something?" Abby asked Y/n.

Y/n glanced back at Brodie who was smoking the last of what they had. "I don't think that's going to be possible right now." She answered.

"What about Marcus?" Nora suggested, carefully. "He's bound to have some."

Abby looked over to Y/n, her expression silently questioning if she would be okay with that. "And you need me to go?" She checked over once more - just in case the answer changed.

A slurring Max was hanging from Abby and Nora was desperate to spend some quality time with her boyfriend; of course it had to be her. "At least if you go, we'll know we'll definitely get some." Abby shrugged, sending a sympathetic smile.

She sighed but started shifting on her feet anyway, "You both owe me, big time." She said to them, pointing her index finger between the two as she started strolling backwards towards the stairs.

Y/n soon found herself in the upstairs hallways. Many doors. And only one led to Marcus' room. Of course she had been up here many times before, but that only ever really consisted of Max's room. Alas, she wandered through, knocking against the one she believed to be Marcus'. Suppose she got lucky too.

"Yeah?" Called a voice from the other side.

Slowly, the girl pushed the door open, finding the shaggy-haired boy laid lazily across his bed. There laid a sketch book in his grasp as he had one earphone hanging out. "Hi." She forced a polite smile to her lips. "You got any weed on you?" What was the point for small talk anyway? She had a plan: get in, get a joint and get out.

Marcus shifted, sitting up as he threw his earphones to one side. "You came in here to ask for illegal drugs?" He reiterated.

She tensed, "Erm, yeah?"

The boy let out a chuckle before stepping from his bed. "Relax, I'm messing with you." Y/n didn't dare move from the space she took in the room as the boy wandered toward his dresser. He pulled out one of the draws, shifting through his clothes before returning with his two joints between his finger tips. "Rules are though, you smoking my stuff, you smoke it with me."

"It's not for me." She interjected. "It's for your sister." She watched as slowly, a certain speckle faded from his pupils. "I can try and bring her up if you'd want, but she's pretty wasted-"

"No, no, that's alright." His eyes darted to the floor, anywhere which weren't Y/n's eyes. That is, for once, anyway.

An awkward silence followed that Y/n made sure she filled. "She's just a bit, emotional right now. Abby thought it would calm her down." She explained. "She's been going through a lot, you know with the-"

"Break up." He finished for her. "Yeah, trust me, I know." Another pause. Another moment of awkward silence. Marcus passed over one of the joints, "Here."

The girl took without a word. She nodded her head and spun on her feet and headed for the door. She should have walked straight through. She should have tried to forget the very awkward situation she had just experienced. But something seemed to be pulling her back. Maybe it was the curiosity, maybe it was just the alcohol. Probably the latter if she were being honest.

But, she turned, finding Marcus still stood in the same spot. And with a rush of courage, she asked, "Why do you keep me staring at me?" She almost surprised herself more than Marcus when the words slipped from her lips. At first, she had herself second-guessing if she had really just said them.

A moment passed before Marcus responded, "Because I think you're pretty." His tone was matched with a nervous laugh as his gaze met her.

"Then why didn't you just say so?"

He shrugged, "I'm saying something now." The boy took a cautious step closer, uncertain if he was reading this correctly. "And I'm sure Max told you for me, didn't she?"

A smile rose to her lips as she recalled the girl's words from earlier in the week. "Maybe." Y/n uttered.

"If you want me to stop, I'm sorry, I will-" He started to ramble as the thought struck his mind.

But, Y/n cut him off before he could get much further, "It's fine." She cooed with the flash of her smile once more.

He took another step and there seemed little room between them now. "Yeah?" He questioned, so close Y/n could feel the breeze of his breath.

She nodded, trying to hide the way her eyes had flickered to his lips. "Yeah."

They lasted a moment which such little space between them. It was like cat and mouse. Like they were trying to catch each other out. Like a game of chess. But Marcus gave in first. He closed the gap between them, his hand cupping her cheek as their lips met, molding against each other.

When they pulled away, they had the same expression, the same grins plastered across their faces. Their foreheads hovered against each other as Y/n muttered, "I should probably get this to Max."

He nodded as they stepped away and Y/n grasped the joint. "I'll leave this door open." Marcus told her as she slowly started slipping back out into the hallway. "You know, if you just happen to find yourself up here again."

"Sounds like a good plan." She stole once last glance at the boy before turning on her heels and wandering back down stairs.

Marcus was left staring at an empty space, all smitten and drowning in awe.

Y/n tried to hide the grin on her face she returned to the party. The music still blared and Max was still whining. "But I still love her!" The girl went on.

"Oh, thank God!" Exclaimed Abby as Y/n came into sight, jogging over to them and passing the joint over. "I'd ask what took so long, but I don't want to know."

"Were you making out with my brother?" Inquired Max.

Y/n played it off as well as she were able, "No, Max. No lips were touching." She replied, feeling a shiver as she thought back to the kiss.

Max hummed and leaned over, "Oh, yeah? Then why is your lipstick smudged?" And like that, with that bomb dropped, Max lit her joint and pretended as if she had said nothing. All while Y/n flushed pink.

#marcus baker x reader #marcus baker #marcus baker imagine #marcus baker x y/n #marcus baker x you #marcus baker oneshot #marcus baker fanfic #ginny and georgia #ginny and georgia fanfic #ginny and georgia imagine #ginny miller #georgia miller #x reader #fanfic #oneshot #fanfiction #imagine

[winterssecrett]

SECRET KISSES | PANSY PÁRKINSON

ღ Sighs gasps, and soft moans could be heard from one of the stalls in the girls' bathroom. Y/n had Pansy against one of the walls while she left kisses and licks on the exposed skin of her pale neck, her right hand was lost between the girl's legs, deliciously playing with her needed button.

"Fuck, Y/n," Pansy moaned, throwing her head back

Her legs were spread and her panties were pushed to one side, giving her full access to her girl. Y/n's fingers were doing wonders in her pussy, one playing with her clit while two others moved in and out of her wet hole.

Y/n smiled when she saw her so desperate. "Is this what you needed? You just had to talk love, there was no need to act like a brat all-day”

Hearing her, Pansy whined, although she had been upset all morning by the little attention she had received from the girl, she would never admit it in front of her. They were not girlfriends and no one had any idea what was happening between them, but even so, there was no lack of scenes of jealousy.

Y/n sped up her movements and Pansy let the moans fall freely from her mouth.

“That's it doll, let everyone hear you, that's what you want right? Let everyone know that you are mine”

“Fuck, yes! Don't stop, please don't stop”

Y/n brought their lips together to try and keep her quiet, while she continued fucking her with her fingers. Pansy started to move her hips trying to match her movements and create more friction for herself.

“You close, doll? You're gonna come on my fingers like a needy slut?”

The dirty talk did it for her because right after Y/n finished her sentence the black-haired girl arched her back and gripped tightly Y/n’s body against her. Her legs were shaky and her body felt limp, she was fucking fucked out.

Leaving one last kiss on her lips, Y/n pulled out her fingers from her pussy and brought them close to her mouth.

“Clean them up, love,” she said softly, watching her immediately obey

Once she was finished, Y/n fixed her panties and skirt, trying to make her look presentable before they went out of the bathroom.

“Are you coming tonight?” Pansy asked in almost a whisper

She smiled and caressed her cheek “I will, but we're just sleeping tonight, I have to get up early tomorrow”

The black-haired girl smiled mischievously “Whatever you want, sweets”

Both of them laughed, knowing how much of a lie their conversation was. They weren't gonna sleep at all.

#fanfic #pansy parkinson x you #pansy parkinson x reader #pansy parkinson imagine #pansy x reader #pansy parkinson smut #pansy x hermione #pansy x ginny #pansy smut #harry potter fandom #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #theo nott x y/n #theo x hermione #theo x reader #draco malfoy blurb #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy x slytherin!reader

[ravenelyx]

I love you in every timeline - Prologue: In Search of Lost Time

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader

Words: 1.9k

Chapter Warnings: angst if you squint, Harry Potter characters appearance, no name appearance (not even y/n dw), some swearing, use of 2nd person for the reader (I know I know but I promise it makes sense for the story)

Summary: "He turned around, and the world seemed to stop around him. She had followed him: into another timeline, into another universe.". In which Sebastian, in his search for a cure in the Dark Arts, finds himself 100 years into the future and meets his most trusted companion's descendant (who looks far too similar to the girl he was once secretly in love with).

A/N: this is the first english fic I've written, so I'm terrified. Anyway, Trimetravel! AU with Sebastian Sallow. Some background info: Reader is not MC; Reader is a Gryffindor, MC was a Slytherin; MC was a Pureblood, Reader is a Muggle Born. Also, english is not my first language so if you find any mistakes, I deeply apologise. Not proof-read (for obvious reasons).

→ Find the rest of the fanfiction here on AO3 :)

"For we are not as faithful to the being we have most loved as we are to ourselves and sooner or later we forget her — since that is one of our characteristics — so as to start loving another." - Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time

If a chasm had opened under Sebastian's feet and swallowed him all the way to the depths of hell, he would have gladly accepted his demise there and then.

Unfortunately, its mercy seemed to be out of business that day — or any other day in his life, really.

Sebastian paced the corridors, a frown adorning his face; he had just come out of the Headmaster's office due to the absolute disaster that had occurred to him just a few hours prior.

After weeks of research, he had finally found something that could help him, a breakthrough with which he could finally achieve his goal. An artefact so powerful that it could break the fabric of time and space, something that could help his poor sister live a happy and healthy life again. He did not care that they were not on speaking terms at the moment: he would find a way to talk to her so that she would take this last chance. He would force her if he had to. It was his last hope, and Merlin knows he had tried everything.

If he had known about the artefact's effects earlier, he would have thought twice before using it.

"So, Mr Sallow, could you be so kind as to tell us how you came to be in our time?" the Headmaster, who had earlier introduced himself as Albus Dumbledore, had asked him.

Truth was that not having stopped dwelling with the Dark Arts in search of a cure for Anne had led him to find himself in another timeline instead. His face twitched: in terms of unlikelihood, the scales seemed pretty unbalanced.

It had been a brief conversation, really, with Sebastian omitting some details (like his friendship with an Ancient Magic wielder or the murder of his uncle, for which he bore full responsibility) and grimacing against his own will when the Headmaster had looked at him through his half-moon shaped glasses as if asking him, 'Why are you lying to me?'

He had pushed the thoughts away as quickly as they had come: it wasn't like he could read his mind... or could he?

Sebastian breathed a sigh of relief when the Headmaster had dismissed him after giving him specific instructions on how to behave until they found a way to return him to his timeline — one of which was, "Please don't inform anyone of your condition unless it's absolutely necessary." That had seemed quite reasonable to him, so he nodded.

The artefact was damaged, as expected, and unlikely to work again unless a powerful form of magic came into contact with it and repaired it: something like Ancient Magic, perhaps, or a miracle.

"I see you're still causing trouble everywhere you fare, aren't you, Mr Sallow?" the familiar voice of Phineas Nigellus Black had mocked from his portrait, effectively startling him. Sebastian had looked up and into the eyes of his old Headmaster, his mouth falling open at the sight of him. He looked old, weary, and angrier somehow — yet, in a way, he had brought Sebastian some form of comfort, almost. A sense of familiarity.

Before he could have said anything, Black had disappeared, and a woman with severe blue eyes and long robes had escorted him out of the office.

-

Sebastian looked around at his familiar surroundings, which would have been almost comforting if not for the nameless faces looking at him with curiosity: Hogwarts students tended to recognise each other effortlessly, and anyone who didn't fit into that bundle of familiarity was to be ostracised. He remembered all too well when he was the one helping the new fifth-year find her way around those same corridors, except he didn't need guidance: this was his home, after all.

But he did have a guide, and she wasn't as charming a student as he was either.

The Head of the Gryffindor House walked right next to him, a stern expression on her face made even more prominent by the shadow of her large witch hat. The woman Sebastian had come to know as Minerva McGonagall was also the Transfiguration teacher and Deputy Headmistress, at least it seemed that way, which was no doubt why she was accompanying him rather than the Head of his own House.

Sebastian decided not to ask himself any questions and do what the Headmaster told him to: attend class, fit in, and pretend to be either a transfer student or someone with a complex background — he hadn't decided which story to tell yet (and both, in a way or another, would be true).

The clacking of Professor McGonagall's shoes stopped so abruptly that he almost would have missed it if she hadn't started speaking.

"You're about to meet two of your new classmates. Prefects of the Gryffindor House." She raised her left arm in their direction, and his eyes followed it to two red and gold robes leading into warm faces.

"I am pleased to introduce you to Ms Hermione Granger—" she gestured to the girl with curly hair to her left, who wore a friendly smile all while maintaining a serious and clean look, "—and Mr Ronald Weasley." Sebastian's eyes shot to the boy to his right when he heard the familiar name, and to be honest, he might not have needed an introduction at all: the red-haired boy gave him a wry smile, his freckles standing out even more in the natural light. He would have recognised those features anywhere.

Finally, Sebastian noticed their uniforms. He didn't pay much attention to the boy's — he himself also wore a very similar one, uncomfortable and informal as it seemed to him — for his eyes were fixed on the girl's. She was wearing a grey cardigan with red and gold trim, the colours of her House, and her skirt was much shorter than he remembered, with black denier tights covering the rest of her legs. Sebastian felt himself blushing slightly and averted his eyes.

He wondered why the Slytherin prefects were unsuited to the situation: at the end of the day, he was a Slytherin, too. Sebastian didn't undergo the Sorting again — the Professors didn't seem to deem it necessary, not to mention the Hat had recognised him from his shelf, too. He didn’t forget easily.

McGonagall turned back to Sebastian and briefly adjusted his robes, her face softening slightly, "For the time being, it is best if you don't draw attention to yourself. We will find a solution," she straightened her posture and nodded at him, "Welcome to Hogwarts." She turned on her heels and walked away, leaving him with the two Gryffindors.

He studied their faces for a moment, searching for the right words to say, deciding on which story to tell, but the only thing he could muster was: "How come you're Gryffindors?"

The two students stared at him, appalled, and he mentally slapped himself. He wanted to correct his statement and explain his intention, but the girl stopped him before he could even form a coherent thought.

"You're wondering why they asked us to guide you and not the Slytherin Prefects, am I right?"

Either his question wasn't that unclear, or the girl had excellent deduction skills, and judging by the epiphany on the other boy's face when he understood the meaning of her words, it was most likely the latter.

Sebastian sighed inwardly and nodded, mentally promising not to stumble over his words again.

The boy — Ronald, Sebastian recalled — chimed in: "Because otherwise you'd have to deal with Malfoy, and he's an idio—" the girl slapped him on the arm and gave him a warning look before turning back to Sebastian.

Malfoy, Sebastian thought. A family of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. It was clear why a Weasley would want nothing to do with him.

Sebastian wondered if they still held the same values as in his day: if the Malfoys were still blood maniacs, and so was the person they spoke of, or if he wanted to distance himself from his family as Ominis did. Judging by Ronald's opinion of him, Sebastian did not think that was possible, but then again, he did not know the fellow. Maybe, Sebastian thought, things had moved on after a century: no blood wars, discrimination or superiority complexes. Perhaps this was all just a simple rivalry between two students from different Houses.

"Professor Dumbledore thought us to be best suited for this difficult situation. No other student but us knows about your... misadventure," said Hermione.

To call it a "misadventure" would be an understatement , Sebastian wanted to say. As it turned out, however, he didn't need a story to tell. He didn't know whether to feel betrayed by the Professors who had decided to disclose that information or relieved that he didn't have to go through it all alone. A beat of silence followed, in which Sebastian could only nod at the girl's words, and then it was interrupted abruptly.

"Where have you been?" called a voice from the end of the corridor, directly behind Sebastian.

He turned around, and the world seemed to stop around him.

He definitely didn't have to go through it all alone because there she was. Standing a few feet away from him, looking straight at him, was the person who had accompanied him on all his adventures.

She had followed him: into another timeline, into another universe.

He felt his lips twist into a grin, and he beamed at the sight of her. Had she been looking for him?

He frowned a little as he noticed her expression: she seemed annoyed, almost angry. Perhaps she had no intention of following him and had just ended up here for no reason? Were the two of them connected on a deeper level than he thought? Or perhaps she was just worried for him and angry he didn't look for her too?

The girl started to walk towards them, and his smile widened even more the closer she got.

She was almost there when he realised she wasn't sparing him a glance.

Instead, her eyes were focused on the red-haired boy next to him, who was staring at her in horror, looking completely terrified.

Sebastian looked back at the girl, finally noticing the red and gold tie around her neck where a green and silver one usually belonged, a crease in her eyebrows that wasn't there before, and her eyes were a different colour than he remembered.

What the hell is going on here?  he thought, staring at her wide-eyed.

"Ron, for God's sake, I've been looking all over for you! Do you intend to give me back my book before class starts, or should I pull a new one out of a hat because you can't use your own?" she threw her hands in the air disapprovingly.

Ron stuttered briefly before hesitantly pointing at the Slytherin boy next to him, "I've just had too much to do. Prefect stuff, you know."

The girl scowled at him before turning to the said boy, her eyes softening slightly. "Oh! You're the new fifth-year!"

Sebastian's eye twitched. How bloody ironic.

"I'm Sebastian Sallow," he replied feebly, body stock-still like marble.

"Nice to meet you," she smiled politely.

And then she introduced herself.

His breath caught in his throat. Sebastian could have recognised that surname anywhere, but her name fell completely deaf on his ears.

You weren't her.

--

→ Chapter 1

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy #wizarding world #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #hogwarts legacy mc #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #sebastian sallow fanfiction #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow angst #sebastian sallow fluff #ron weasley #hermione granger #fred weasley #george weasley #ginny weasley #harry potter fandom #harry potter legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic

[lovebotmo]

like the movies

chapter four - the feathered visitor

series masterlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader

wc: 1675

author's note: so so grateful that you guys are enjoying the story so far!!! its been incredible to be inspired and motivated when it comes to writing. i appreciate those who let me know they want to be on the taglist - lmk if anyone else wants to be added!!!

also if i missed someone my apologies!!! first time putting a tag list together hehe

song inspiration: how sweet it is (to be loved by you) by marvin gaye

Clambering into the compartment containing your friends after separating from Theo, you are greeted with expectant silence. Ten eyes peer at you with varying emotions; curiosity, caution, surprise, excitement, and intrigue all seem to swim in the faces of your dear friends.

Slapping your hands onto your knees, you smile nervously at them. “Well, what is it?”

“Don’t keep us waiting!” urges Hannah, who’s practically vibrating with excitement. “What was that all about? Running after Nott of all people.”

Your brows furrow unconsciously, “What d’you mean?”

Ginny laughs at your apparent confusion. “Nuh uh, Y/n. We all saw you go after Nott, no need to be coy now.” She winks cheekily at you. “Are you two seeing each other?”

You sputter at her brashness, “Me and Theo? There’s—”

“It’s Theo now, is it?” Padma asks. “When did he become Theo, eh?” Padma nudges your shoulder with her own.

“Oh, shove it, Pads!” You could practically feel the red rising in your face and neck at the undivided attention now being paid to your very short, tiny, essentially minimal interaction with a male specimen. You felt like a research subject whenever your friends interrogated you like this. “I was just worried Theo was going to miss the train—a very normal thing to be worried about considering he’s my potion partner and I bloody well can’t use his brain if he’s stranded in Hogsmeade! Besides,” you said, pulling at the sleeves of your wooly sweater, “that fight between Malfoy and him looked downright awful.” At that, the girls abruptly halted their aggressive probing, uneasily remembering the spat that had taken place very publicly in The Three Broomsticks. All, except for Luna, who continued to peer at you with that typical all-knowing, dreamy look of hers that seemed to suggest she knew better.

As if there’s anything going on between Theo and me. I barely know the guy…or almost barely know him…kind of know him?

Shaking the disorganized thoughts from your head, you turned to the girls to continue the conversation that had abruptly stopped at the tavern. A train ride filled with trolley sweets, gossip, and uncontrollable laughter soon led to your arrival at Hogwarts, just in time for the evening meal.

Retiring to your room shortly after dinner, you found that your housemates’ beds were empty. You guess that they were likely meandering around the grounds before curfew. You savored the silence and stillness of the room. However, all too soon, it was interrupted by an odd sort of sound.

Clink.

At first you ignored it, thinking something had just shifted in your room.

Clink…Clink.

This time, your eyes swept across the room, searching for whatever could be causing that sound. It didn’t sound like a water drip, someone in heels, or even coins moving around in a coin purse.

Clinkclinkclinkclink!

As the sound increased in volume and frequency, you realized it was coming from the window of all places, even though you were elevated relatively high in the tower containing your bedchamber. That is to say, no person could have been outside your room without the aid of a broom or the flying charm. You cursed under your breathe that the window was glazed, meaning you couldn’t see what lay on the other side. Undergoing a momentary crisis of whether you should open the window, you decided in a split-second to just open it and hope for the best. However, you made sure to grab your wand.

Can’t be too careful now, can we, Y/n?

Your hand grasped at the brass handle, quickly swinging the frame open. An autumnal evening gust of wind greeted you, along with something else.

What the fuck.

Perching on your windowsill, was a quaint tawny owl peering at you rather oddly. The bird cocked its brown and white feathered head as you did the same.

What the devil is a bloody owl doing up here? “I don’t suppose you intended to come up here, did you?” Looking at the owl, you noticed it was clutching something in its claws, a small parcel of sorts. “Is that for me?”

As if answering, the owl flew past you and landed on your desk. Its head cocked once more as if wondering whether you were going to join it or not. Realizing you were standing dumbly in front of the window and letting all the warm air out, you shut it. You did not lock it, however, anticipating that your feathered friend would be departing shortly.

You joined the owl at your desk, sitting in your chair. You were now eye level with the mysterious bird, its dark eyes gazing into your own.

“May I?” you inquired, gesturing towards the little package in its clutches. The fowl relented, gently releasing it onto the wood of your desk. Before allowing yourself to rip into the bundle, you pulled out a small cannister of crickets you kept in one of your desk drawers for when you visited your own owl in the aviary. Lightly placing it in front of the owl, you allowed it to treat itself while opening the unknown gift.

Inside, you found a small package of caramel creams, just like those you had gifted to Mr. Flume a few short hours ago.

“How…?” You looked to the bird who was still pleasing itself with your offering of crickets.

You couldn’t begin to wonder at who would have known to gift you that particular candy, who would have noticed your quick interaction among the thick throng of students that had filled Honeydukes earlier. No one had stood out to you in the little time you had spent in the candy store, wholly preoccupied with your candy exchange.

Where could they have even bought it from? It’s not like Mr. Flume even stocks this specific sweet, no matter how much I may beg the man to.

“You must have been flying for ages to bring these to me, I reckon.”

“Hoot.”

Laughing at the short, clipped response of the owl, your eyes noticed a small piece of parchment paper within the parcel. Grasping and opening it quickly, your eyes were met with the same script you had seen on the previous note that had accompanied the moly bouquet currently residing on your nightstand. Once more, the note was succinct and saccharine.

Y/n,

Sweets for you, sweetheart.

Yours,

Teddy

“Seems your owner fancies me,” you said to the owl as you carefully refolded the note. “I don’t suppose you would be able to give me a clue as to who they are?”

“Hoot.”

Sighing, you replied, “Alright, alright. I won’t badger you for answers.” You rose from your chair, intending to allow the plumed messenger to return to the aviary. The bird flew from its perch on your desk to your shoulder, its head gently rubbing against your cheek. You smiled at the little show of affection. Once more, you opened your window, allowing your avian visitor to rejoin the skies. Looking back at the caramel creams and clutching the note to your chest, a warm feeling began to leak out of your heart. Whoever your admirer was, he was rather…sweet.

A few caramel creams later, you were sprawled on your bed and surrounded by your friends as you recounted the entire rendezvous with the tawny owl. You shared the sweets among your friends, but you kept the contents of the note to yourself. Your friends had already seen the first note and none of them had recognized the handwriting. There was no harm done, really.

Besides, you thought, it’s kind of nice to keep something between just me and this elusive ‘Teddy.’

“You didn’t recognize the owl, did you?” asked Ginny. “Godric knows everybody can tell when I’ve sent an owl. That bloody bird, Errol, is hard to miss.” She gives you a vexed look that makes you chuckle.

“No, it looked like any other owl I’d have seen in the aviary. Anyway, there are hundreds of owls here, they’re not exactly easy to differentiate.”

“Well,” Padma says, “at the very least, we know that your little admirer is a third year or older.”

Hannah’s face shows her confusion, “How do you figure?”

“They were in Honeydukes, weren’t they?” Padma shrugs, “Whoever he is, he has to be, at minimum, thirteen years old to go to Hogsmeade.”  

Groaning, you flop back onto your bed, hands covering your face in dismay. “Blimey, I hadn’t even considered it might be someone younger than me. What if it is a third year? Fucking hell, I’ll never be able to live it down.”

Moving your hands from your face, Hermione smiles gently at you. “If it is a third year, which I seriously doubt, you’ll be gentle in letting them down. No big deal.”

“I’d be a laughingstock, ‘Mione,” you say grumpily.

“No, you won’t, Y/n,” replies Hannah. “Besides, it’s just the six of us that knows, right?”

“About that…” Ginny looks at you sheepishly. “I may or may not have possibly, accidentally let it slip when I was perhaps…potentially talking with Lavender…”

The redhead’s confession gets you to shoot up quickly from your horizontal position. “You did what?” You toss at a pillow at her, which, with her incredible athleticism, she easily intercepts. You frown. “Lavender is possibly the worst gossip I’ve ever met. I’d be surprised if Filch didn’t know about it.”

“It was an accident, promise!” Ginny exclaims, “Lavender asked if you were seeing anybody—I think she’s interested in Lee Jordan—so, I suppose she was trying to determine whether or not you were—”

“Ginny.”

“…Yes, Y/n?”

“I’m going to give you until the count of three.”

“Count of three—what for?”

“One.”

“Oh please, Y/n. I didn’t mean to—”

“Two.”

“For the love of Merlin—”

“Three.” At your last count, you sprint at the girl who starts to run from you as you chase her with your wand. She sharts to shriek with laughter, dashing as far from your incurrent wrath as possible.

“You’re going to get it, Weasley!”

taglist: @melllinaa, @randomgurl2326, @lovelyygirl8, @abaker74, @mypolicemanharryyy, @vanevafu, @laceandsuch, @agent-tempest, @themarauderswife7 & @adoraspace

#ginny is so silly #mine #lovebotmo writing #harry potter #harry potter au #lovebotmo #slytherin boys #theo nott imagine #theo nott x reader #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theodore nott fic #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott fanfic #theo nott #harry potter fandom #hp fanfic #Spotify

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Do you write for marcus baker?

He is not on my character list, but I was thinking of adding him with the new season just released (I have not finished, no spoilers please!)

—

You knew Max would be mad, but you went anyway. You needed to see Marcus.

According to Ginny, he got discharged from the hospital yesterday. She saw him from her window. No broken bones, she had reported.

you knocked on the Bakers’ door. Ellen answered and told you Max was not home — that you already knew. If she had been home, you would not be there.

‘’I’m here to see Marcus, actually.’’ You held your breath, hoping she would let you in.

A frown formed between her eyebrows. ‘’Marcus? I didn’t know you and him were friends.’’

‘’We have a class together,’’ you lied.

Ellen pressed her lips in a thin line, hesitating. ‘’He just took his medications, he must be sleeping…’’

‘’Oh. I understand.’’

‘’But maybe a visitor would be good for him. Only for a few minutes, though. He needs rest.’’

You nodded and went upstairs.

When you got to his room, the door was wide open. The lamp on his nightstand was on, but as his mom had predicted, he was sleeping. On the left side of his face, scrapes and cuts decorated his soft smooth skin, making your heart ache with guilt.

Your silly little argument that made him get on his motorcycle the night of the accident seemed so pointless and stupid now. You didn’t mean any of the mean words that came out of your mouth, you said them in the heat of the fight. You said them because you didn't know how to answer Marcus’s confession.

‘’Marcus,’’ you whispered, stepping closer to his bed. You didn’t want to startle him. ‘’Marcus.’’

Saying his name was not working, so you sat on his bed, careful not to sit on his arm that was laid out on the mattress, and employed another method. You gently caressed his hand with your thumb and, after a few strokes, he moved his eyebrows and stirred.

It took a few seconds for Marcus to register that you were there. Once his eyes found yours, you retracted your hand and tucked it on your lap.

‘’What are you doing here?’’

After your fight, he didn’t think you would visit him. But here you were, sitting on the edge of his bed with a heavy heart.

‘’How are you feeling?’’ It was a stupid question, but stupid things tend to come out of your mouth when you’re nervous.

Marcus blinked but didn't say anything.

‘’Marcus, I— This is all my fault. Everything I said, I didn’t mean. You took me by surprise and I didn’t know how to respond so I got into defensive mode and said all those mean things.’’ Tears blurred your vision, wishing you could go back in time and erase everything you said three nights ago. ‘’I’m so sorry, Marcus.’’

You hated to make his accident all about you, but you were the reason Marcus left your house emotionally hurt. You saw the pain in his eyes when you told him he couldn’t love you, that he was incapable of love. People tend to drive fast when they are upset or distracted. You heard his tires screech when he left your driveway, speed off.

‘’My accident was not your fault. I got hit by a car and fell in a ditch.’’

‘’Because of me,’’ you insisted, a lump forming in your throat. You found yourself staring at the wounds on the side of his face, making you feel worse. ‘’If I hadn’t been so mean to you, if I had been honest instead of getting into defense mode, you would not be in this bed recovering from an accident.’’

Marcus slowly sat up, his body aching from the accident, and cocked an eyebrow. ‘’No?’’

‘’No,’’ you confirmed.

‘’And what would you have said if you had been honest?’’

You bit your lip before coming clean with your feelings. ‘’That I love you too, Marcus Baker. I pushed you away because I was scared of my own feelings, because I was scared of falling in love, but the things is, I've already fallen for you.’’

Marcus's lips curled into a small smile. ‘’That was disgustingly romantic.’’

‘’Shut up.’’ You leaned toward him, closed the remaining space, and kissed him, stopping him from further making fun of you.

His smile died and his hand came to the back of your neck, lips so soft and gentle at first and then getting more needy. You grasped onto his shoulders to find purchase and pulled him closer to you, but the physical activity caused Marcus to pull back.

He blinked slowly a few times, feeling dizzy from the kiss. ‘’Let’s keep the kissing for when I no longer have a concussion.’’

You covered your mouth with your hand, immediately feeling bad. ‘’Shit. Sorry. I should not have kissed you.’’

Marcus smiled sweetly. ‘’It’s okay.’’ He reached for your hand and laid back down, pulling you with him.

You quickly caught on to what he was trying to do, but you resisted. ‘’I can’t stay for long. Your mom said just a few minutes. I don't want to get on her bad side.’’

‘’Please.’’ He did his best puppy eyes, knowing which strings to pull to make you falt. ‘’I’m gonna fall asleep in a minute anyway. These meds are strong.’’

You gave in. 

—

#marcus baker #marcus baker x reader #marcus baker imagine #marcus baker x you #ginny & georgia

[angelzdaydream]

he's obsessed with you | Marcus Baker

plot: Marcus and reader have been in a secret relationship and they have been hiding it well from Max, but when she finds out she laughs because she knew he was obsessed with you.

requested by: @xtom-darling-x17

warnings: slight smut but no details

Marcus sneaking through your window at night had become a habit for the past few months, but on this particular night you decided you'd be the one doing the sneaking.

You took extra caution to be quiet not wanting to draw attention to yourself as you shimmied your way up the house and into the Baker household. As much as you didn't want his parents catching you, the thought of his sister Max who just so happened to be your best friend was much worse.

You smiled at the sight of your boyfriend sleeping soundly in his bed, his sketchbook sprawled against his chest and he pencil he was still in his hand.

You walk over to him, carefully grabbing the pencil out of his hand and the sketchbook to put it away. You go to close the sketchbook but before you could the drawling he was working on catches your eye. Your heart begins to flutter when you realize it was of you.

Marcus stirring in his sleep snatches your attention away from the drawling and you close the sketchbook before placing it on his nightstand.

"This is different. Normally I'm the one doing the breaking and entering." Marcus's voice startles you a bit.

"Figured you shouldn't be the only criminal in the relationship." you grin before leaning down with the intentions of kissing him gently, but the moment your lips touch, he's pulls you on top of him making you gasp at the sudden motion. Marcus uses this to his advantage as he slides his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

The moment you pull away for a breath of air, Marcus's lips are against your neck sucking and pressing needy kisses against your skin. "You drew me." You moan shakily.

"I did." Marcus replies before sucking on the sweet spot on your neck making your eyes roll back. "How about you be my muse again and give me something else to draw of you?"

"Please." you beg, already so needy for him and before you know it, Marcus is detaching himself from your neck and flipping the two of you around so he's on top.

His lips crash against yours as he grinds his hips against yours, causing the both of you to moan. Both of you were too consumed by each other that you both failed to hear his door open.

"Mom wants to know what you want for dinner- y/n? Holy shit! Holy fucking shit, my eyes!" Max screeched before slamming his door closed and running off.

All you can do at first is look at Marcus in horror. "Shit! How mad do you think she is?"

"She didn't try to kill me so maybe not as mad as we expected her to be." Marcus replies sitting up off of you.

"I'm going to go talk to her." you stand up off his bed fixing your hair and clothes.

"You want me to come with?" he asks reaching for your hand and kissing it reassuringly.

You shake your head no. "I think I should go alone in case she's super pissed. You being there might make it worse."

He nods his head in understanding before you make your way to Maxines room.

You knock on her door, and it doesn't take long before she tells you to come in. You quickly do, shutting the door behind you but never moving from in front of it. You look up at Maxine who is already looking at you. The two of you go a moment without speaking when all of a sudden Max burst into a fit of laughter.

You stare at her wide eyed, unsure if she was so pissed it was coming out as laughter or if it was for another reason. You really hoped she wouldn't make such a big deal out of it, you loved and cared about both Marcus and Max in different ways and you never wanted to hurt either of them.

It goes on for a few minutes before her laughter finally dies down. "I'm not mad." Max speaks after catching her breath.

"You're not?" you question, gaining the courage to move away from the door to sit next to her on the bed.

"I mean it hurts a little that you didn't tell me, but I figured something was going on between the two of you and that you'd tell me when you were ready. I've seen the way you two make googly eyes at each other and honestly, I've never seen him as happy as he is with you. He cares about you a lot, it's disgusting really. Not as disgusting as what I just seen though." Max scrunches her nose up in disgust.

You giggle. "Sorry about that."

"As you should be, I'm scarred for life." she says before giggling too and pulling you into a side hug.

A weight feels like it had been lifted off your shoulders now that you and Marcus no longer had to hide your relationship from her and that Marcus cared as much about you as you did him.

-

idk about the ending but hope you guys liked it <3 feel free to send me request!

#marcus baker #marcus baker x reader #ginny and marcus #ginny and georgia #marcus baker imagine #marcus baker x you #marcus baker smut #marcus baker x y/n

[suugarbabe]

Forget me not

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, broken bones

Summary: based off this ask; this will be a short series fic

Your lungs were on fire, but you kept running. Pointing your wand behind you, throwing every defensive spell you could think of toward the figure behind you. You turned down a different corridor, noticing the stone arches above you. You pointed your want toward the ceiling, still sprinting, “Bombarda Maxima!” The stone behind you came crumbling down on top of your attacker. You slowed down to a light jog, seeing an opening in a wall just big enough for you to rest and catch your breath quickly. You heard footsteps nearing and gripped your wand tightly, at this point in your life the birch wood and Phoenix feather core were an extra limb for you. The steps came closer and you did your best to press yourself into the crack in the wall. As soon as you saw a foot in your peripheral vision you muttered a quiet impedimenta, the person immediately tripping and a flash of red hair coming into your vision. 

“Ginny! Oh Merlin, I’m so sorry a death eaters been chasing me for Godric knows how long and I just-” Ginny embraced you in a hug so tight you thought she was going to crack one of your ribs. “Bloody hell, Y/n, I’m so glad to see you,” Ginny pulled away, quickly scanning over you head to toe as you did the same to her. She had some minor cuts on her face, her shirt and jeans covered in small tears and stone dust. You were sure you looked similar. “Have you seen the twins recently? Have you seen Freddie?” You tried to keep your voice from breaking as you asked. Ginny shook her head, “Not since they went with dad toward the towers.” You nodded, pushing any fear or doubt deep down inside along with any tears you feared were to spill. You heard cackling down the next corridor. Ginny grabbed your hand tightly, “We have to go.” 

You and Ginny ran, dodging falling pieces of the castle and throwing spells toward any dark smokey figure you saw in the distance. You forced down the bile that would rise in your throat any time you had to step over a dead classmate, feeling guilty every time you were relieved it wasn’t Fred. You had been blindly following Ginny, not paying attention to where she was running when you came to the steps at the bottom of the astronomy tower. You followed her halfway up the stairs before glancing out one of the stone openings. You saw a giant swinging his curved weapon, flattening a row of stone soldiers in one fell swoop. You watched briefly as an acromantula  picked up three students at once with their pincers, cutting them in half. You couldn’t hold it back this time as you stuck your head through the opening, emptying what little contents were in your stomach. 

“Y/n, are you okay?” Ginny walked back down the steps to check on you. You opened your mouth to speak when it suddenly felt like your head was going to explode. Your eyes met Ginny’s as you started to hear the gravely, burning voice of the one man everyone was fighting to defeat. You have fought valiantly…but in vain, I do not wish this, you looked back over the scene below, noticing everyone looking up at the sky,  every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat, your eyes widened and met Ginny’s again, both beginning to descend the steps quickly. Voldemort's venomous tone continued, in their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity. You both headed back the way you came, keeping an eye out for loved ones, alive or fallen. Harry Potter I now speak directly to you. On this night, you have allowed your friends to die for you, rather than face me yourself there is no greater dishonor. Your mind immediately jumped to Fred, tears brimming at the thought,  join me in the Forbidden Forest and confront your fate. If you do not do this, I shall kill every last man woman and child who tries to conceal you from me. 

The Dark Lord’s voice was gone just as quickly as it had arrived. “The Great Hall,” Ginny stated breathlessly as you continued to run behind her. “What about it?” You questioned. “That’s where they’ll bring them,” she stopped running, turning to face you as you came to a halt, “the dead. They’re going to bring them to the Great Hal-”. You were sprinting past her before she could finish, you’re mind on one thing: not seeing Fred’s lifeless body on a stretcher. You ran past damaged walls, fallen painting and Filch sweeping pieces of stone with a push broom. You entered the Great Hall, slowing to a walk to better scan the faces around you. Your breath caught in your throat when they landed on Remus and Tonks. Tears ran down your face when you noticed their arms still outstretched toward each other. 

“Y/N!” Ginny had finally caught up to you, “have you seen any of them? My family?” You shook your head, looking back toward your fallen friends in front of you. Ginny choked back sobs before both of your names began being called out. “Ginny! Y/n!” You both turned, seeing the Weasley parents running toward you. “Mum! Dad, oh thank Merlin,” Ginny spoke and the Weasleys enveloped you both in their arms. George was right behind them and you captured him in a hug quickly, nearly knocking him over, “I’m glad to see you too, duck.” You pulled back slightly, “And Freddie?” George’s face fell slightly, looking over your shoulder at his parents. You turned to them, neither able to meet your eye. You looked back towards George, seeing Charlie and Bill carrying someone on a stretcher. “No,” your voice was barely a whisper, growing louder and louder as your brain started to realize the situation, “No it can’t be, no, Freddie NO!”  

You moved to run to the stretcher but George held on to you, long arms wrapping around your waist and holding you to his chest, “Let..go of me,” you fought against him, “George let me go, let me go to him…please…I-I need to see him.” George held onto you tighter, slowly sitting down on the ground as your body seemed to go limp in his arms. You turned towards him now, burying your face in the chest of his jumper as sobs escaped you. You felt like someone was squeezing your heart tighter and tighter with each breath, “I-I can’t b-breathe…G-Georgie I c-can’t b-breathe.” George turned you to face him, placing a hand on either side of your face, he forced you to look at him. At the face that looked just like your Freddie’s. Only it wasn’t Fred, you could tell. You were always able to tell. 

By the end of week one you could tell, or at least you could tell which one of them was Fred. Both twins had a singular dimple when they smiled, on their left side; but Fred’s was just a little deeper than George. By the end of year two there were several differences, at least to you. George’s voice was slightly deeper, Fred’s part was just slightly more subtly to the left, and he had a faint beauty mark under his left eye. They both began accumulating little nics and scars on their skin as their pranks grew more extravagant as well. Fred had the smallest of scars on the bridge of his nose after running face first into the stone wall a week before Christmas holiday one year. He and Peeves had just pranked Filch, Fred forgetting that being a poltergeist allowed Peeves to escape through walls, while he just slammed into one. By the end of your sixth year they both had several more scars that helped you distinguish Fred from his twin, including a half inch scar below Fred’s right eye. It was your favorite one because it was the first time he had let you heal him at the end of year two. You had so many opportunities to heal the twins over the years Fred would joke that you should choose that as your profession. 

George tapped your cheek lightly, bringing your attention back to the present. “Y/n, did you hear me, love? Are you listening? Ginny, is there something wrong with her hearing I thought you said you checked each other?” You grabbed his face, you now holding each other, “I’m here Georgie, I can hear you, what did you say?” He swiped his thumb over your cheek, catching another tear before it fell fully, “He’s still alive, duckie. Freddie’s not dead, he’s alive. We just can’t get him to wake.” You never moved faster in your life than you did from your spot towards Fred’s body. Ginny got up, allowing you to kneel right next to him. You scanned his body, gasping as you reviewed his injuries. His left leg was clearly broken, Molly muttering mending and bandaging charms above it. He had numerous cuts and bruises along his chest and stomach, some deeper than others, edges burned black from the types of spells that created them. His right hand and several fingers broken as well, as if someone stepped on it, ceasing his ability to use his wand. His neck was beginning to bruise, you noticed his shallow breaths and checked his pulse as you ran your fingers along his jawline. His upper and low lips were split on opposite sides. What worried you the most was the gash on his forehead, just below his hairline. 

“Is he..?” You looked up to see Ron standing over you, doing his best to hold himself together. You stood up, “He’s alive, but he needs a lot of mending.” Ron did his best to smile at you, “Well then he’s in the perfect hands with you, I reckon he’s given you lots of practice.” You sniffled, nodding. You grabbed on to Ron quickly, not able to control the tears that were falling. He held onto you just as tightly. “I can’t lose him, Ron. I just can’t. I don’t think I can survive without him,” your tears soaking the shoulder of his shirt. “You’re not going to lose him, just stay with him. Do what you do best for him.” You pulled back, wiping your face with the palms of your hands as Hermione sprinted up to your group, “Harry went into the Forest, I-I couldn’t stop him. Luna said she saw Voldemort and the rest of the death eaters walking back toward the castle. They’re leading Hagrid with ropes like an animal. And he’s…” she trailed off, looking over at Ginny. “He���s what, Hermione,” you asked her, snapping her back to the present. “He was carrying someone.”

Ginny started running out of the hall. “Arthur!” Molly pointed towards Ginny; Athur and the older boys followed after her. Hermione and Ron followed quickly after that. You stayed with Fred, Molly staying as well not able to leave her injured son. You took your wand from your pocket, hands hovering over Fred’s stomach, “Vulnera Sanentur.” His cuts started to slowly close. You waved your want over his right hand, “Episkey.” The bones in his hands and fingers snapped back to their rightful place and a mild groan left Fred’s throat, yet he remained unconscious. You leaned down, placing a soft kiss to his cheek before whispering to him, “I’m sorry, Freddie. I know you’re hurting. You are so strong, love. So very strong. I love you so much.” You sat up straight at the sound of cheering just outside the castle. You and Molly made eye contact, silently wondering to each other which side was celebrating. You continued waving your wand over Fred slowly, repeating incantations as you started to feel the energy of both powerful and dark magic around you. 

Several death eaters burst into the great hall, the remaining witches and wizards now defending the injured and helpless around them. “You stay with Fred,” Molly kissed the top of your head and she ran to join the others. You continued working over your boyfriend, glancing up periodically to cast a protection bubble around the two of you every few minutes. You glanced up again, noticing Molly going toe to toe with Bellatrix. The dark witch glanced in your and Fred’s direction, tongue running along her dirty, blackened teeth. Molly then threw a curse at her, Bella deflecting it. But Molly didn’t stop, she went again and again, hitting Bellatrix with a stunning spell, then a tightening spell that caused her corset to squeeze her nearly in half. Molly finished her off with one last curse, hitting Bellatrix directly in the chest causing her to disintegrate into bits. A blood curdling scream erupted from outside the castle, followed by an eruption of cheers. 

You looked down, running your finger tips over your favorite scar across his cheek, “You hear that Freddie, I think he did it. He beat him. We won, Freddie.” Molly joined you again, followed by Arthur and Charlie. “There’s one more thing to try and wake him, but it’s going to take the four of us to make it powerful enough. Do you think you can do it, darling, do you still have the energy?” Molly was looking at you. You nodded, “Anything.” She hovered her wand over her son, you, Arthur and Charlie doing the same. “The reviving spell, on three.” Arthur counted down, “One…two…three.” You waved your wand as the four of you said it simultaneously Rennervate. You could feel the magic burst from your wand, like it was coming straight from your veins and into Fred. You all sat back, waiting to see any signs of further life. You felt a hand on your waist, trying to grasp on to the bottom of your shirt. You looked down, seeing the hand you had healed just an hour before. “Oh thank Godric,” you held his hand in yours and he squeezed back tightly. 

His eyes suddenly opened, a deep gasp escaping his throat as he went to sit up quickly. Arthur and Charlie pushed him back down, holding either shoulder, “It’s alright son, you’re alright. Just breathe. You’re still going to be in quite a bit of pain but Y/n and your mother have healed you well.” You smiled as the tears fell, you were so happy you thought you could burst. The men let Fred sit up on his elbows to glance at the scene around him. He looked at each face of his family members before stopping at yours. You grabbed his hand once more, “How do you feel, Freddie? What still hurts?” He sighed, “I mean everything kind of, but it’s a dull pain. But…I do have a question.” George kneeled down next to his twin, “Anythin’, mate, what is it? You want something to eat? Some fire whiskey to take the edge off?” Fred shook his head, you imagined a million different things he could have asked you all, but nothing could have prepared you for the gut wrenching feeling you got when he made eye-contact with you again before asking,

“W-who are you guys?”

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley #george weasley #ron weasley #ginny weasley #weasley twins #battle at hogwarts #harry potter #golden era #hermione granger

[starlingflight]

Guys, @ginnyw-potter just gave me the details on her Hinny Dirty Dancing AU idea and when I tell you that you need it, that's an understatement.

I told her I'd start a petition to make it happen, and she said I wouldn't (as we all know, it is unwise to dare a Ginny Stan) so if you need a Dirty Dancing AU (you do), like or reblog this post.

We are not above peer pressure at starlingflight.org

#hinny #harry x ginny #i wont spoil but the dynamic is not what you think #its better

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity

chapter eleven

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. all characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): fighting, mentions blood, more angst lol

series masterlist; previous part; next part

The three of you sit in varying states of unrest beside Ron's hospital bed.

Hermione was still gripping his hand, as if her touch would entice him to wake up; Ginny was throwing a ball against the nearest wall as she quietly chatted to Mione, ignoring the glares of annoyance from the matron every time her ball made a thwack sound against the stone; you were sat on one of the uncomfortable chairs, a copy of 'Mythical Lore' in your lap, your eyes darting to and from Ron's chest to check that he was still breathing. Harry was Merlin knows where, but you knew he'd be back soon, never willing to leave his friends in distress for too long.

It had been like this for hours. Your tears had dried up and your anger had simmered away slowly; all that was left was the hollow feeling of helplessness and despair as you sat there.

Helpless against the poison that was slowly leaving Ron's bloodstream.

Helpless against forces that harmed your friends.

Helpless to whatever was happening to you.

A monster is what you were. A mythical, dangerous monster. Your gut churned with unease.

The somewhat peaceful atmosphere was interrupted as the doors to the Hospital Wing behind you burst open in a flurry that alerted Madame Pomfrey instantly.

"What is the meaning of this?" she said to whoever had appeared in the doorway. You swivelled in your seat to see, noting Ginny's incredulous look and Hermione's annoyed one, which could only mean one thing.

"Where is my Won-Won?" the squeaky voice of Lavender Brown sliced through the calm. "Cormac McClaggen told me he was here but I didn't believe him."

Madame Pomfrey tutted at her dramatics and pointed the girl in the direction of where you were all sat. You tensed at the blazing heat simmering in Lavender's eyes as she looked between Hermione's hand in Ron's.

"Y'alright Brown?" you say with a grimaced smile, discontent with the fact that you knew the other two wouldn't dare to speak. "Ron's been out for a few hours. Should be cognisant properly in a week's time."

Apparently you'd taken to snarky remarks to cover up your terror at the fact that he had not so much as stirred from his dreamless sleep. She turns to you then, her features betraying how worried she was for her boyfriend, but she had let jealousy rear its ugly head.

"And what is she doing here?" she hisses, pointedly looking at Hermione as you and Ginny share bewildered looks.

"Well-" you say, awkwardly glancing between the girls, "Well they're friends aren't they?"

"Yes well, you're friends with Theodore Nott, but it's so obvious that you're fucking each other behind closed doors." she snaps and you gape at her in disbelief. "Forgive me if I don't think that Granger's intentions are any less pure."

"I am not fucking Theodore." you jibe, throwing a whithering glare at Ginny who had let out a loud snort at Lavender's self assured statement.

"I've been friends with him for longer than he knew of your existence." Mione snapped, not letting go of Ron's hand, scowling as Lavender lets out a catty laugh.

"You're joking right? The two of you haven't had a civil conversation in weeks. But I suppose you want to make up with him now that he's all interesting." she says shrilly and its Ginny who whirls on her this time.

"You call being poisoned interesting? Are you that dim?" she questions and Lavender's resolve jostles only slightly.

Suddenly, Ron's features contort in discontent.

"Oh look at that." Lavender says smugly, eyes flicking to Hermione's grimacing face. "He senses my presence."

You yelp as she practically shoves you away from where you are sat, leaning over to peak at her boyfriend's face as it twitches with his dreams. He begins to mumble something that you can't make out and Lavender begins to encourage him to speak up, as if he'd be able to hear her.

You just stare at the back of the girl's head in annoyance until she staggers away, mouth agape with shock. You're confused until you hear it for yourself.

"Her- Mione. Mione. Mione." he chants her name like a siren's song.

Hermione smiles gently and her thumbs caresses his hand softly as he continues to mumble incoherently in his sleep. Lavender lets out a broken exhale and promptly flees the ward. You pity her in that moment. Not even the most incorrigible of people deserve that kind of betrayal.

The three of you are silent as you watch Ron. But he's sound asleep again. Still, as if it had been a combined figment of your imaginations. You stand to make the matron aware of this development, playfully shoving Ginny away as she taunts you.

"I can't believe she thought you and Nott are fucking." she laughed. "Unbelievable."

"Shut up." you berate her and she lets out a giggle before replying in a barely hidden whisper.

"Wrong Slytherin Prince, right?"

She smirks as you throw up a middle finger towards her as you reach the matron's office on the other end of the Hospital Wing.

~∞~

Somehow you've mastered the accute art of stealth.

In the week that has passed, you have managed to drift through the castle halls without so much as crossing paths with any of the Slytherin group. Partly due to the fact that you spent your time in the Hospital Wing with a near-cognisant Ron, in classes or in your dorm. You didn't dare go to the Room of Requirement or the library and you were eternally grateful that it was not your week to do the nightly Patrols.

Ancient Runes proved to be a difficult feat, but you somehow coerced a fellow Ravenclaw to switch seats with you in exchange for completing the next essay so that they could focus on training for the quidditch match at the end of the week. Under normal circumstances you would've abhorred the idea of it, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

You could feel his eyes practically burning holes to the back of your head in all your shared classes, and you felt him in the corridors, but you didn't dare give in. You didn't want to see him. Couldn't bare to face him.

Mattheo was restless and agitated. All week long you wouldn't so much as look at him, let alone deign to spend an ounce of time with him. He was worried.

When you slammed the common room door in his face a week ago, he had reluctantly confessed to his friends about what the two of you had discovered; each of his friends were wholly willing to help him find a way to help you, if only he could tell you the good news.

And he'd tried. He'd reached over the tether that had connected your mind to his, but each time he was met with an offensive wall of dark stone. You'd blocked him out completely, and he would've been impressed if he wasn't so desperate to hear your voice.

Now he knows how you must've felt all those weeks ago, but it's different now. Now there are feelings involved. Now he doesn't know how to cope without your snark and sarcasm.

When he found Jeremy Stretton sat in your seat in Ancient Runes he found his reigned in emotions snapping. Especially when he saw that you were sat in the front, happily chatting away to Hermione and one of the Patil twins, waiting for Professor Babbling to turn up. He doesn't know why the sight of the Chaser makes his blood boil.

Mattheo slammed his hands onto the desk, bringing his face level with Stretton's, who had looks up in startled alarm. Mattheo was seething, and he didn't particularly care that everyone was beginning to peer curiously at the scene that was beginning to unfold.

"What the fuck are you doing at my table, Stretton?" he snarled, eyes narrowing as his hands tightened around the lip of the desk.

To his credit, Jeremy shook off his stupor and looked at Mattheo obstinately.

"I'm sitting in my seat, Riddle. Problem?" the Ravenclaw chaser replied, challenge flaring in his oceanic eyes.

Mattheo's glare became venomous.

"That...is not...your seat." he said slowly, his voice low and dangerous. He could see you standing up in his peripheral, looking as if your going to intervene, but Granger stops you with a hand to your shoulder, a look of incredulity on her face. "I suggest you move, before I move you myself."

"Well actually," Stretton says with a barely there smirk, "I think you'll find that it is my seat. I don't know why it's taken her so long to do so, but Meadow practically begged me to swap and I can only oblige to her wishes."

He sees red almost instantly and Stretton's shirt collar finds its way into the clenched fists of Mattheo's hands, his hot breath fanning over the Ravenclaw's smirking face. He now knows why fury coats his every being with a tiny detail that whispered to his consciousness. Stretton had taken you to the Yule Ball two years ago. This was a product of pure jealousy as well as rage.

"Oooh did I hit a nerve?" Stretton says. "What could dear, sweet Meadow possibly see in you, Riddle?"

Mattheo doesn't register the feeling of his fist untangling from the shirt collar, until he feels the soft cartilage of Stretton's nose breaking beneath bloodied knuckles. He can vaguely hear Theodore and Pansy telling him to stop, can barely hear the sounds of people jeering and gasping at the scene. But what he does hear is your blessed voice.

"Mattheo stop it." you say, and it's like the sound brushes away the feelings clouding all his senses. He lets go of Stretton, who flops to the floor unceremoniously, but he doesn't pay him another glance. Not when you're looking at him the way you are. With bewilderment and what he thinks is unease. His breathing is ragged as he steps towards you, but you step back.

"Are you insane?" you hiss at him and to his utter horror, you turn your gaze to the blubbering boy on the floor and kneel down to help him instead.

"Jeremy?" the way you say his name with a soft tone grates through him and he's about to step towards you again, when Theodore's firm hand on his chest stops him.

"Let it go. You've already caused quite the scene brother." his voice is a gentle caress to his ears and his graciously listens to Theo who sighs in relief, pushing Mattheo out of the door, ignoring the shouts of Professor Babbling, who had just entered the classroom.

~∞~

Wordlessly, you heal Jeremy's wounds as Professor Babbling meanders in, unaware of the turmoil that had occurred only moments ago. Jeremy was hissing and cursing as your magic washed over his skin.

"You can take your godsdamned seat back, Meadow." he spat. "It's so not worth getting another beating over."

You smile grimly at him, guilt clouding your eyes. "Of course. I'm sorry, Jeremy."

"Not your fault, love." It's nearly impossible for you to hide the way the nickname makes you cringe. "Can't say I won't miss the opportunity for some extra quidditch practice though."

He bats your healing hands away as Professor Babbling stands above the two of you.

"What on Earth is going on?" she says, voice stern. "Does it have anything to do with why Masters Riddle and Nott are notably absent?"

Jeremy nods immediately at the same time that you freeze, not willing to give them up so easily. He stares at you incredulously. You clear your throat awkwardly.

"Uh, yes. Yeah." you say in a muted whisper. "But it's been sorted."

Jeremy throws you a look, which you adamantly ignore as you rise and go towards Pansy's table, taking Theo's empty seat. She doesn't so much as look your way, tense as you sit down. You close your eyes and sigh.

"Look I'm sorry that I've not spoken to you." you mumble without turning to face her.

"Ignored and neglected more like." she retorts in response. "I had no idea about Ron, Meadow. You have to believe me."

You reach over and squeeze her hand in your's. "I do believe you, Pans. I do. But it doesn't mean that the others didn't. And I-"

You're cut off by Professor Babbling's introduction to the lesson's topic, but the squeeze that Pansy's hand gives your's is all you need to know that you're both okay. And that's enough for now.

"For what it's worth," she mumbles almost imperceptibly. "You're doing an awfully good job of avoiding him. I've never seen Mattheo so ruffled."

Instead of satisfaction, that statement only brings you an aching sense of pain. And whether you do it unconsciously or not, you'll never admit, but your mental walls break down the smallest amount.

Enough for him to know that you're in as much agony as he is.

~∞~

As soon as Pansy leaves your side after you've walked out of Ancient Runes, Hermione is there immediately.

"Okay, what in Merlin's name happened in there?" she asks incredulously.

"We both know Riddle has a short fuse, Mione. It's not that abnormal to see." you retort and she gives you a disbelieving look.

"Maybe so, but it can't be just me that's noticed that he hasn't resorted in bloody fist fighting in months." Damn her and her brilliant observation skills. "And why was Stretton in your seat in the first place?"

"I asked to swap." you say with a shrug and when you don't give her the answer she's no doubt looking for, she pins you with a glare.

"You've been avoiding them all week. Parkinson, Nott and Riddle. You've spent more time with me, Ginny and Harry this week than you have all year."

"Tired of my presence already, Mione?" you say with the ghost of a smirk of your face. When she doesn't return your humour, you sigh. "I've been a little busy with visiting Ron. And maybe Harry's spiels have been getting to me."

"What?" she questions before lowering her voice. "You think they're Death Eaters?"

"I don't know what to think." you say. "But I can't talk to them. I won't."

"You spoke to Pansy, just fine earlier."

"She's not the one I'm avoiding."

A brief glance into her mind shows you that she thinks you're speaking about Theo. And while the thought of speaking to him after what he no doubt had a hand in helping orchestrate, seeing Mattheo, speaking to Mattheo, makes your heart want to drop right down to your stomach.

You can still feel the phantom of his power all this time later. Though that could just be you imagining it; you don't doubt that the brief feeling you got was exhilarating. It terrified you.

"Are you coming to see Ron after lunch?" Hermione asks as you part ways for your differing classes.

"Yeah. I'll find you in the Great Hall once I've finished Astronomy." you smile in farewell as she makes her way towards her Arithmancy lesson.

Your smile slips immediately as you turn the corner, because you find yourself trapped between a cold stone pillar, and his strong, muscled chest, his arms straining as they pin you to the hard structure. You don't look up to lock eyes, instead glaring intently at his loosened Slytherin tie.

"Hello, Princess." Mattheo spits menacingly. All he gets in response is a huff from you. "Still intent on avoiding me, are you?" he lets out a dark chuckle that sets your skin alight, and you can tell without looking that a sinister smirk paints his gorgeous face.

You feel as he sensually caresses your mind, and it has you keening into him.

Let me back in. His deep voice is demanding and assertive. At your blatent refusal he growls. Why won't you let me in?

I can't. You say back, your inner voice a mere whimper in comparison to his. He tilts his head down to look at you, chasing your eyes with his own. He can feel your fear and self hatred like it was highlighted in bold colours for all to see.

"What are you so afraid of, darling?" he asks out loud in a low and raspy tone that makes you melt. Your eyes shut on instinct, squeezing away the light until your dizzy.

"I'm going to be late for Astronomy." you say, deflecting and he scoffs, pushing you further into the wall.

"It's barely eleven o'clock. I'm sure you're not going to miss a change in star pattern any time soon."

"That's not even the point and you know it." you argue, trying in vain to evade his strong hold.

"Stop avoiding us. Stop avoiding me." he begs. "Do you know how insufferable Teddy has been?"

"What a horrible thing to say about your best friend." you retort halfheartedly. But Mattheo is only partially glad that you're returning his words with quips of sarcasm. He sighs.

"I don't blame you for what happened in my dorm, love." Unlike how you cringed away from Stretton, your heart sings at the nickname. "'S not your fault."

"I could've drained you to death, Théo." you say quietly, and his face heats at the shortened nickname. One that he had not heard in years, since the passing of Theodore's mother. "I don't know how you can stand to be around me."

You're still evading his eye contact, so he lifts a hand from the wall and gently cradles your chin, moving your gaze to his; bloody knuckles contrasting with the smoothness of your skin.

"You're not a monster." he says resolutely, like he truely believes it. "You never have been, and you never will be. Not to me, not to my friends, not to your friends, either."

Your brow furrows and your eyes line with unshed tears.

"I went to Dumbledore." you say and he stills. "After I left your common room. I went to him and he said I was a weapon. Because I can detect certain magical objects and people."

Mattheo's body lit up with fury again. You were not a weapon to be used and discarded. No, you were a person who did not belong on the frontlines of war.

"And what did you say to that?" he asks you, onyx eyes narrowed in anger that was not directed your way.

"I told him that I didn't know how to control it. That I wasn't interested in being fated to die." you say, and it feels good to talk about things you're too afraid to speak to your friends about. "I asked him to grant you all safety too."

At this, Mattheo's gaze snaps right to your own. Incredulity lacing his features. "Why would you do that?"

"He could see right through my shield." you defend yourself at his tone. "He refused anyhow. Said you had to ask for yourselves, and he knows that you won't."

He admired your ire for his friends. But he almost winces at the glare you send his way.

"You knew that he wouldn't help any of you no matter when or how I asked. Didn't you?" you couldn't believe him.

"You learn to expect nothing less from the people who expect nothing but bad intentions from you, sweetheart." he replied with a shrug. "Though I wish they'd help the others, no matter if they associate with me or not."

His face is dark as he lets you go. But you don't move away. Instead you tilt your head and stare up at him, eyes moving across his features: from his onyx eyes framed by gloriously long lashes; to the bridge of his nose, crooked from previous fights with a long scar stretching across the middle of it; to his perfect mouth that pouts slightly as he gazes down at you.

Keep looking at me like that and I'll take you in this very corridor. He snarls in your mind and you smirk.

Kinky. But I draw the line at exhibitionism. You pat at his hard, muscled chest and make to move away and run towards the class that you are no doubt now late for. But he stops you with a firm grip to your bicep and he spins you around to face him again.

"Tease." he mutters with his own smirk as he presses his lips to your's. It's as euphoric as the first time, and every time after that as his lips fight against your's, ultimately winning your miniature battle for dominance. You mewl into his mouth as his tongue brushes against your's, hands clawing at the hairs at the nape of his neck as he pushes you into the wall once more.

You're so lost in eachother that you don't hear them when they turn the corner. Ginny and Harry stop dead in their tracks as they stare at the two of you wide eyed. The former smirks at the thought of finally catching you out but it drops immediately when she turns to the boy beside her who is visibly fuming. And she can't steer him away fast enough to save you from his wrath.

"Shacking up with Death Eaters now, Meadow? I thought that was below you." the spitting sound of your best friend's voice breaks you from your daydream like state and you force yourself away from Mattheo's wondering mouth to gape at your two friends.

Ginny is sending you an apologetic look which you bypass in order to face the scathing eyes of Harry Potter.

"Harry-" you say, stepping out from where you're trapped between Mattheo and the wall, and you're so grateful that he doesn't keep you pinned there, instead he stands slightly infront of you, arms folded, a glare set on his face.

"Don't." Harry says, eying the way Riddle stands infront of you protectively. "All this time, I thought you were only tutoring him for Nott's sake. But, of course you just had to get in his bed, too."

The hand on his bicep is the only thing stopping Mattheo from launching at the boy.

"Watch it, Potter." he snaps, his position infront of you turning defensive.

Harry lets out an incredulous laugh; Ginny's attempts to persuade him to leave it alone, are ignored.

"I overheard you." he continues as if Mattheo had not spoken at all. "In Dumbledore's office. Begging him to help your friends."

You don't know what to say. Starstruck by his anger. But you understand why he's angry at you, and that ache burns ever brighter in your chest.

"The same friends who have tormented us, tormented you for years. How can you even ask such a thing?"

"They deserve to be helped just as much as the rest of us." you say at last, your voice quiet and on the verge of cracking with emotion. The lump in your throat gets bigger with every word you speak. "You know what it's like to grow up in an unwanted home Harry. You know that no one deserves that."

"That's not the point Meadow." he snaps and he visibly delights in the way you recoil at his words. "They're all Death Eaters. Working for his–" he points a steady finger to the boy stood beside you, "-father. Did you ever stop to think that they were buttering you up to take to him once they got wind of your powers."

You blanch at that and turn your gaze to Ginny. She gapes between the three of you and avoids Harry's eyes. "I didn't tell anyone. I promise you, Meadow." her resolute tone is the only thing grounding you to reality right now.

Harry shakes his head. "Dumbledore told me that you can siphon people's power as well as perform Occlimency. When were you going to tell us?" his anger gives way to betrayal as he looks you up and down. And the way he spits out the word 'siphon' tells you everything you need to know. He thinks you're a monster.

"I was going to tell the rest of you." you promise, not looking at Ginny again. "But only when I had a better grasp of it."

Harry scoffs and steps towards you. Rolling his eyes when Mattheo stands directly ahead of you.

"Back off Potter. If you know what's good for you."

The way his venomous lilt travels through you should make you ashamed, but it only sends sparks of arousal to your core.

Harry only looks at you from over Mattheo's shoulder, distain painting his pale face as he utters a heartbreaking sentence before he leaves, with Ginny following quickly behind him, with a silent promise to find you later and apologise for Harry's (entirely justifiable, you think) words.

"Don't go to see Ron later, and don't you dare seek us out again. I don't trust you, and I don't know if I ever will again."

Mattheo is onto you the second the pair depart, wrapping you in his arms as you collapse from the onslaught of emotion that crashes down on you.

What have I done? What have I done? What have I done? You say over and over and he does his best to comfort you, going as far as to sit against the wall, cold floor stinging against the fabric of his school trousers, cradling you into his chest.

It's okay. I'll fix it. I promise. Is all he can muster up in comfort as you crumble before his very eyes, sinking into his embrace.

~∞~

i love writing angst lol i hope you enjoyed this shortish chapter (lots of time skips im sorry)

the coming updates will probably be slow since i've gone back to uni - i have to complete three presentations and come up with a product idea and a lab report in like 5 weeks 🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲

i've tried to fix it and i've reported the bug but i'm still incapable of editing pretty much all of my posts (not the serendipity masterlist post though, thankfully) and its getting quite frustrating now but we move 🫡

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff @babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony @dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf @devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira @foxboyapologist @lafrone @lovely-maryj @nromanovaswife @leeknows-wife @dracygf @wildlyobserving @ravenclawprincess33 @melllinaa @vellicora @lantsovheiress @emiliahoward @stunkbiggu @vcosette @prongsprincessworld @mattiesgirl @rachmmb @x-kermit-x @sun-fiower-seed @cas-planet @certaindreampost @weirdowithnobeardo @mikalovesicecream @sunasbbie @rainy-darling @faeriepigeons @lovely-blackinnon @hiireadstuff @gimalo135 @elsafromcabinsix @moonlightreader649 @blueshome @nopedefe @spencerreidsthings @navs-bhat @agent-tempest @magimtz23 @y0urm0m12 @sbrn0905 @leona-hawthorne @whatsupb18 @moni-cah @taylorann2013 @unstablereader @gisellesprettylies @nat1221

#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x you #harry potter #mattheo riddle #pansy parkinson #ginny weasley x reader #hermione granger x reader #harry potter x reader #angst #serendipity series

[lixzey]

Professor, Professor

ex-lovers to colleagues, what could go wrong?

professor remus lupin x assistant professor!reader

one

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[frost-queen]

Sudden attention // part 3 (Reader!Potter x Fred Weasley)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia,  @elllie-does-the-posts, @alex--awesome--22, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @imagines-by-her, @vviolynn, @melsunshine,  @evilcr0ne, @floatlosers, @callsignwidow, @whotfskai, @freddieweasleysgf, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @sublimepenguinpeach-blog

Summary: Back at Hogwarts you might not be able to escape Cormac. While Fred tries to cover up his feelings for you amongst friends he must interfere when Cormac corners you. [part 1 & part 2]

Taking a deep breath you felt at home again. Home. Hogwarts welcoming you. Taking in the castle in all it’s glory. It’s walls harboring all your memories. The laughs you had laughed and the tears you had cried. A hand on your back made you turn your head. Hermione passing you with a gentle nod to follow her. Ginny right behind her, when passing you she turned round facing you with a big smile.

Ron walking by on your left side followed by Harry. Harry gave you a brief nudge for standing still. Something about seeing the castle again made you sentimental. George stretched his arms while passing you from the long train ride. Once more a touch on your back made you turn your head with a few blinks.

Fred coming in sight with a smile. – “Shall we?” – he asked. Instantly you started to smile back at him. – “Yes.” – you whispered getting in motion. More groups of students gathered when you all went in the same direction. Taking the fields way. Quickly you all were inside at the common room.

Hermione plopped down on her bed with a deep sigh. You were knelt down sorting some clothing in your trunk when you noticed Ginny nearing. She grabbed the pole on your bed, letting herself sway on her feet with a dramatic turn to you. – “Are you excited to be back Y/n.” – she asked. Something about the tone in her voice hinted she had a hidden agenda. – “Why’d you ask?” – you responded folding the sweater Molly had knitted neatly aside.

“Nothing for.” – she responded with a pitch in her voice. – “I’m sure a certain McLaggan boy would be pleased to see you again.” – the mention of his name made your eyes widen. You had completely forgotten about him and the letter he had send you. The letter you had never answered because it got burned.

Then you forgot about it, caught off guard by Fred being suddenly extra nice to you. Hermione gasped loud remembering it as well. You got up, turning towards them, eyes wide in shock. Hermione stared in shock back at you. – “How did we forget.” – she spoke removing her hand from before her mouth. – “I didn’t.” – Ginny answered with a chuckle.

“I never wrote back.” – you said out loud as Ginny sat herself down on your bed. Crookshanks hopping on the bed with her. – “Perhaps it is for the best. He is a bloated toad anyways.” – Ginny went on stroking Crookshanks tail. Hermione slapped Ginny against her arm. – “How can you say that!” – she called out. Ginny took a breath turning more towards her. – “He’s all smug.” – she reminded her.

“Yes, but he also is interested in Y/n. He is the first one to proclaim his interests in her so loudly. Shouldn’t we take this in consideration?” – she answered. Ginny crossed her arms. – “Are you saying Y/n should settle for the first worst thing just because he is the only one interested.” – she bit back snappy.

“Hey!” – you called out as they were speaking over your head. Both turned their heads at you. – “Sorry.” – Hermione immediately apologized. – “I’m just warning you.” – Ginny responded making you briefly roll your eyes at them.

“It’s not like you have a lot of interested boys.” – she finished. – “Maybe he isn’t the only one.” – you called out catching her off guard. – “Truly?” – she gasped jumping up. You pulled your shoulder up, keeping your mouth shut. – “Y/n.” – Ginny said when you remained silent returning to your duties. – “Are you seriously not going to tell us anything.” – Ginny said eager to know.

You pulled your shoulder up again without a word. Ginny groaned in agony, grabbing you by the shoulders. – “Tell me!” – she said staring desperately at you. She fluttered confused when you started laughing. – “I need to know…” – she whined out hoping you’d show pity with her. Hermione could only stare at you, trying to figure out who. – “Who!” – Ginny pushed you back as you fell on your back, laughing loud. – “Who tell meeeee!” – she begged whiny wanting to know it so desperately.

Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly on you. – “Help me Hermione. I need the answer!” – Ginny cried out for help. Hermione came joining in tickling you to get an answer out of you. No matter how hard you laughed, you didn’t slip a secret. Keeping Fred’s name deep in your heart, but never outed.

“What is she sour for?” – George asked when coming to join the table in the great hall with Fred. – “Y/n wouldn’t tell us who the second guy is that fancies her.” – Hermione informed them as Fred looked intrigued at you. You gave no attention to his glance. – “Second guy?” – George spoke glancing over his shoulder to Fred. Fred pulled his shoulders up as if not knowing who he was talking about.

“Look at you miss popular amongst the boys.” – George teased with a nudge in your side. Fred chuckled nervously catching his brother’s gaze. – “I’m hardly popular.” – you told George with a faked smile. George threw his arm over your shoulder. – “Two seems like a popular number. Soon number three and four will join.” – He acted out, counting it with his fingers.

Fred cleared his throat. – “I honestly think not.” – he spoke making George quirk his brow up. – “How would you know?” – Hermione asked noticing Ginny was still in her sour behavior. Arms crossed and a bothered expression on her face. – “A hunch.” – Fred answered making you suppress a smile.

George turned his head, checking twice if he saw it right. – “Speak of the toad.”- he spoke motioning with his head in the direction. You leaned back looking behind George to the doors. Everyone else looking as well. Hermione getting a bit to look over Fred. From afar you caught Cormac standing with some of his friends. The second he noticed you, he waved with a big smile at you. It made you feel embarrassed hiding yourself behind George. – “Looks like he’s still head over heels for you Y/n.” – Hermione spoke lowering herself.

“Even though you ignored him all summer long.” – Hermione said as you shushed her. George intrigued by the sudden new news. He hummed curious. – “You’ve been ignoring him all summer. What did he send you letters or what?” – he joked out. Seeing the expression on your face and Hermione’s he stopped laughing.

“Are you serious? Did he send you a letter?” – George asked. You slowly nodded your head. – “The toad!” – George cursed, clenching his hand. You glanced across the table over to Fred. Wanting to know what he thought about all of this. His expression was neutral but partly clenched. You could see the anger he was trying to hide.

George puffed in Cormac’s direction, daring him to even try and come near. – “Don’t tell my brother.” – you said not wanting Harry to be involved in this as well. – “He’ll murder him on the spot.” – you added nervously. – “Now that is something I like to see.” – Fred answered to your surprise. – “A bit of a cruciato torture on him.” – George filled in with a funny expression. – “You boys are being ridiculous.” – Hermione answered slapping Ginny against her arm to stop moping.

Fred and George both pulled their shoulders up in response. – “Well whatever you decided to do, just leave Harry out of it.” – you reminded them getting up. Fred got up as well as it made you stare half confused at him. Fred cleared his throat sitting himself back down. George snorted loud at his brother’s silly behavior as Hermione quirked her brow up.

Hermione slowly got up to follow you. The Weasley staying behind as the two of you needed to go to class. Hermione grabbed you by the elbow, pulling you out of the way from Cormac. Who seemed very eager to come over now it only the two of you. Hermione and you caught up with Ron and Harry on your way to class.

After class you went your own way. Hermione joining Ron and Harry for a trip to Hagrid’s. You rounded a few corners, walking in the open corridors around the courtyard. – “Potter!” – you heard loud behind you. It made you slow down. – “Potter! Y/n!” – slowly turning around you saw Cormac run over to you. Your eyes widened as there was no one around from your friends to help you out. He came to a stop by you, catching his breath.

“How… how was your summer…” – he asked making you smile nervously at him. – “It… it was okay… how… how was yours?” – you asked in return to be polite. – “I’ve send you a letter.” – he said bluntly catching you off guard. – “You… you did?” – you answered trying not to sound too suspicious. He hummed loud. – “Didn’t you get it?” – he wanted to know. You slowly shook your head trying not to show any signs of your lying.

“No… no I didn’t get anything.” – you told him untruthfully. – “Strange…” – he scratched the back of his head. – “Anyways I’m really glad to be back at Hogwarts. We should head to Hogsmeade once. I’ll buy you a butterbeer.” – he said leaning a bit closer to you. – “By the way this is me asking you out.” – he added a bit cocky making you gulp shyly.

“So what do you say Y/n? Shall we call it a date?” – he went on getting all smug. – “I’m busy.” – you flopped out without thinking. Cormac furrowed his brows. – “Come on I’m sure you can find some time for me.” – he pressured on making you feel uncomfortable to say no to him any further. – “I’ve been thinking all summer about you. Couldn’t get you out of my head Potter.” – he teased reaching his hand out to you. Letting his fingers brush against your cheek as it startled you.

“McLaggan!”  - you suddenly heard making you gasp loud. Cormac groaned irritated at the sight of Fred. Fred came standing by your side, giving him a little shove to keep his distance from you. – “What do you want.” – he asked rudely. Cormac chuckled cocky. – “It’s between Y/n and me, Weasel.” – he replied. – “Think about my offer Y/n.” – he winked your way making Fred step in between. – “She won’t.” -  he called out. – “So stop bothering her!” – he made clear. Cormac scoffed.

“You’re not her superior, so why don’t you stop bossing her around.” – Cormac answered with a sneer. Fred took a step back, grabbing your shoulder and pressing you hard against his side. – “No, I’m her boyfriend.” – he casually said making you look startled at him. Expression full of surprise and shock. Cormac started to laugh. – “No you aren’t.” – he said.

“Oh yes I am!” – Fred kept on.  He turned his head looking down at you. With his thumb his turned your head closer to him, inching it closer to him as he leaned down. Your eyes widened feeling a burn on your cheeks. Flustered and flushed with heat as he drew his lips nearer to you. His lips inches away from yours. – “Alright I get it!” – Cormac called out. Fred paused curling up a smile.

He turned his head looking all smug at Cormac. He puffed loud, stuffing his hands in his pockets, storming off. – “Good riddance.” – Fred said letting go of your chin. You stood frozen; eyes wide as the heat had risen to your entire face. This close, this close was Fred to kissing you without a warning. You weren’t even sure if he was bluffing or was willing to actually kiss you to proof a point. – “Y/n.” – he said noticing the frozen state you were in.

“Y/n?” – he waved his hand in front of you. You slowly blinked. Before he could say more, you turned around, walking off with your hands pressed against your cheeks to cool off. Somehow it felt like you hadn’t seen the last of Cormac even with Fred’s little charade. Yet why was your heart thumping so loudly against your chest. Was this Fred’s doing?

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