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mentally-in-northern-italy · 2 years

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midnight feasts and evening strolls — c.d.

Summary: Aside from thinking up clever retorts to practically everything, you had always been quite fond of midnight feasts. Aside from being reduced to a blushing mess at said clever retorts, Cedric had always been quite fond of you.

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x fem!ravenclaw!reader

Word Count: ~4.1K

A/N: i'm so down bad for this man. possibly one of my most simple yet the most fun to write fics ever. i loved writing for cedric so expect a lottt more of that in the future!!! enjoy!

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Cedric knew it was too good to be true when his midnight patrols were going a little too well.

It was eerily quiet in the castle, with Cedric producing the only sounds heard in the night. He hadn’t caught any students out of their dormitories tonight. A truly novel feat.

It wasn’t unusual for him to reprimand one or two lost first years nightly. Although, how they managed to be lost for two hours past curfew, he had no idea.

Partly surprised and partly pleased, he had made it all the way around the castle, on his way to the dungeons to finally call it a night. The soft rustling of his cloak against the stone floor soon came to a halt, however, when he heard a faint thud in the distance.

He exhaled deeply out of his nose before turning back the way he came to find the culprit. It really did seem too good to be true – and he was absolutely right. He would be catching a student tonight, after all.

He retraced his steps until he wasn’t even sure if he had actually heard anything or simply imagined the sound due to his recent lack of sleep. It certainly wouldn’t surprise him if it were the latter. He had a lot on his mind lately and while these midnight strolls usually seemed to clear his mind, they weren’t proving particularly helpful tonight.

Rubbing his sleepy eyes once, he decided that it really was too late tonight to chase a potentially imaginary student around the castle. He rounded a corner that he was pretty sure would lead him to the dungeons as you collided into his chest with a thud, dropping the contents of your hands.

“Shit!” you exclaimed as you bent down at once to recollect them all. The house elves were not going to be pleased to see you back at the kitchen doors for a second time tonight.

Finally overcoming his shock at encountering a strange girl with handfuls of biscuits, crisps and the occasional pastries, Cedric found his voice again. “Hey! It’s two hours past curfew. You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Pfft,” you excused his scolding without glancing up. “What are you going to do? Take five points from Ravenclaw? Go ahead. We’re too far ahead of every other house this year anyway.”

Cedric furrowed his brows as he blinked, taken aback and at a severe loss for words. Realization flooded his brain at once at your snarky remark and he exhaled again. Of course he had to run into you tonight, of all people.

You had earned quite a reputation in your year for your sharp tongue and even quicker wit. He couldn’t remember a single class in the past seven years of his Hogwarts career in which you hadn’t raised your hand politely to interrupt and correct whatever professor was giving the lecture. You had even done it to Snape a few times and Cedric had only been able to blink in stunned silence every time.

Though Cedric would never admit it, it was getting increasingly difficult to conceal the little crush he had developed on the pretty Ravenclaw girl that always had a clever quip on the tip of her tongue.

That very fact was evidenced by his odd behaviour tonight: he couldn’t help but remain standing awkwardly as he watched you gather your things on the cold stone floor, your hair illuminated by the moonlight pouring in through the castle windows and your robes impossibly ruffled after the collision.

As you finally turned your gaze upwards, standing back up and brushing your robe off, you raised your eyebrows in surprise. “Diggory?” You questioned in confusion.

“Er,” he began, trying his best to regain his composure. “Yes.” Cedric found himself thanking Merlin that you two were alone right now. His friends would never let him live this down if they were to see this. “What are you doing here, [Y/L/N]?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you replied simply as your eyes roamed Cedric’s face. You had never seen him up close before, though all the girls in your year had made it a personal mission to do so at least once in their academic life. He was already impossibly dashing from afar but this was a different thing altogether. It was like he glowed.

“So you raided the kitchen?” he questioned as his lips tugged upwards slightly. He tried to ignore how his eyes seemed to catch on how you licked your lips as you thought of an answer or how your nose twitched at his attempt at humour.

“I couldn’t sleep and I was really hungry,” you amended with a quick roll of your eyes, which only made Cedric smile wider. He soon reigned it back, though. He really hoped you couldn’t see how hard he was trying to feign nonchalance. “I was just about to head back actually.” You clarified.

As you started to take a few steps forward, with your pile of snacks balanced haphazardly in your arms, a packet of crisps tumbled to the floor yet again, followed by multiple packets of cookies. You cast Cedric a sheepish look. Cedric cast you a thoroughly amused one.

With a fond smile still playing on his lips, he picked your snacks up from the floor, placing them back in your arms. It wasn’t long before they tumbled back to the floor. Cedric watched this with amusement, paying close attention at the huff you let out and the slight pout of your lips and the soft furrow in your brows and–

“Diggory?” You called expectantly.

He blinked a few times as you addressed him, his love-struck smile dropping altogether. He wondered if he was supposed to know what to do at this moment. He opened his mouth to say something before closing it again.

You exhaled heavily. “Can you please walk me back? I can’t carry all this back myself and my wand is buried in my robe pockets.” You gestured to the fallen snacks on the floor. “Please?”

Cedric’s heart leaped at your request just as quickly as he bent down to pick your snacks up, giving you a small nod. “Yeah,” he finally let out. “Of course.”

He matched your pace as you two walked through the castle together, towards the Ravenclaw tower. It was, once again, eerily silent in the castle. Although, if someone were to ask Cedric, he’d complain of all the commotion his heart was making. He risked a few glances at you to make sure you couldn’t hear how loud it was beating.

“So,” he began, eager to fill the awkward silence but even more eager to be able to turn to look at you properly without it being weird. “Do you raid the kitchen often?”

“It isn’t raiding, per se,” you retort. “It’s requesting nicely and hoping the elves don’t say no.”

Cedric let out a small, breathy laugh. “Alright. Do you do that often?”

“Mainly when I can’t sleep,” you admit honestly, turning to look at him. “I’ve always found it easier to sleep after eating something.”

Cedric hummed in response. Merlin knew he needed all the tips he could get to help him sleep. With the first task of the Triwizard Tournament fast-approaching, he hadn’t been able to sleep a wink most nights. “I’ll have to give that a try then,” he mumbled under his breath.

A pause.

“Is it because of the Tournament?”

Cedric turned his head, then, to look at you at once. It was like you had read his mind. But then again, he found himself thinking, he was the Hogwarts champion. He reckoned most students knew who he was and what he had signed up for. Still though, if you were to look closely, you would’ve seen the faintest shade of pink coat the tips of his ears.

He hesitated before sighing. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I guess it is.”

“Still have no idea about the first task?” you asked sympathetically, holding his eyes the entire time. He found it particularly difficult to keep gazing into your eyes, though, so he cleared his throat as he looked down for a moment.

“No,” he replied. “I’ve got no clue.”

You nudged his shoulder lightly and Cedric was sure his brain had short-circuited at the contact. “You’ll be fine, I’m sure. I believe in you,” you shot him a quick smile and Cedric immediately felt his cheeks redden. He tried his best to hold your gaze as he smiled back but eventually resorted to studying the ground with a bashful smile on his face.

Upon your arrival to the spiral staircase that led to your common room, Cedric placed your snacks back in your arms and turned to bid you goodnight before you stopped him.

“You really should try it, you know,” you said before he could turn away to walk to the dungeons. “My sleeping method, I mean,” you handed him a packet of your favourite biscuits. “Here. They’re a personal favourite. Satisfaction guaranteed.” You winked as you turned to walk up the stairs.

With his cheeks aflame and his mouth gaping open, he knew he had to say something back. With all that he had in him at that moment, he tried his best to return to his normal, confident self instead of the flustered mess you always reduce him to.

“I’m holding you to that, then,” he called as he watched you ascend the stairs with slow steps. “Fifteen points from Ravenclaw if it doesn’t work.”

“That’s not going to hurt Ravenclaw’s chances at winning the house cup either, Diggory,” you laughed as you looked down at him. “And what if it does work?”

“Then the elves will have to make room for yet another student showing up at their door to ‘request nicely, hoping they don’t say no’ to stealing snacks from them every night.”

“I’ll let the elves know to make the arrangements, then,” you called as you slipped through the door finally, leaving a star-struck Cedric standing below. He turned the biscuit packet over in his hands before shaking his head fondly. He opened the packet at once, desperate to try the biscuits you were so fond of.

That night, when Cedric returned to his dormitory, stuffed full of the biscuits you’d gifted him, he slept soundly for the first time in two weeks.

It wasn’t a dreamless sleep, either. He dreamt of you all through the night.

–

It had been a week since he had learned what lay in store for him for the first task of the tournament. It had also been a week since he was last able to get a good night’s sleep – no matter how many chocolates he popped in his mouth.

Needless to say, over the past week, he also grew desperate to run into you again. Even more so than normal, which, admittedly, was already a hazardous amount.

He had tried paying the kitchen a visit every night since he first encountered you returning from it, but he never seemed to find you at the right time. There was a particular night on which he was so desperate that he actually resorted to asking an elf if you had visited that night. He’d worn a sheepish smile as the elf had only looked at him hesitantly before bidding him goodnight.

What Cedric had not been aware of, however, was that you had asked the same elf the exact same thing that same night. The elf was thoroughly confused, to say the least.

He was trying again tonight. He really needed to see you again tonight. You were the only person that could ease his nerves about the task tomorrow, while simultaneously making him flush with every little thing you said. It was like a drug.

He had arrived at the kitchen doors, raising his hand to knock before the door opened itself. He breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of you, once again laden with snacks that he was sure you already had a pile of under your bed.

“Diggory!” You exclaimed as your eyes lit up and Cedric tried to dismiss how his heart seemed to have skipped a beat. “Are you here to take fifteen points away from Ravenclaw?”

He chuckled at your question. “No,” he shook his head with a nervous smile. “Quite the contrary, actually. I’m ‘requesting nicely and hoping you don’t say no’ to me stealing those biscuits from you again.”

“Ah,” you nodded with amusement, handing him another packet of your favourites. “Satisfied customer, then?”

“Very,” he agreed, taking them. “Thank you.”

He took a deep breath to calm his nerves as he followed close behind you. Neither of you had to say anything to know that Cedric walking you back was part of the routine by now.

“Are you ready for the task tomorrow?” you asked, slowing a little so he could walk beside you through the winding hallways of the castle. You turned to study his face – the kind eyes, the worry lines on his forehead from, no doubt, worrying about the task, the golden locks that fell perfectly on his head despite it being so late.

“I hope so,” he sighed as he turned to look at you and shoot you a quick smile. He found – with much delight – that your presence had grown more so comforting than it was nerve wracking – and that was never something he ever thought he would be able to say.

“You are,” you affirmed with a nod. He breathed a laugh at how certain you were of what you were saying only to hide how full his heart really felt at the affirmation. “Do you know what it is yet?”

“Dragons,” he said simply. You waited for him to follow it up with a laugh to indicate he was joking before widening your eyes. “I know.” He half-smiled at your reaction. It had shocked him too.

“Wow,” you said as thoughts raced in your head. “What are you planning on doing?”

Cedric shifted uncomfortably at your question. He always prided himself on being brave, on being intelligent. Yet, somehow when it came to you, both of those thoughts dissolved into nothing. He had no idea if you would find his idea as ingenious as his friends did.

“I’ve always been quite good at Transfiguration,” he began slowly. “I was thinking of using that to my advantage. Perhaps if I transfigured a rock into – I dunno – a dog, maybe, then I could distract the dragon.”

He waited with bated breaths for you to say something. Your eyebrows were furrowed in thought as you analyzed his idea. “That’s brilliant, Cedric.” You said finally, with a thoughtful smile. It was certainly an inventive idea.

He couldn’t help but grin at your compliment, and his grin only grew as he realized you had used his first name. He loved how it sounded when it came from your mouth. “I trust I'll find you in the stands tomorrow, then?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you grinned. You both halted as you arrived once again at the foot of the spiral staircase. You held his eyes for a second before leaning up on your toes to leave a small peck on his cheek. “For good luck,” you added cheekily, turning at once to climb the stairs.

Cedric blinked a few times in shock before bringing his hand up to his cheek, feeling the residual warmth of the kiss you had planted just seconds ago. He felt himself blush intensely as he watched you slip through the door into your common room. Only after you had vanished completely out of sight did he allow himself to break into a shit-eating grin.

He slept soundly that night once more, dreaming only of you, even when the threat of dragons loomed over his head.

–

Cedric knew he would be able to sleep just fine tonight if he went up to his dormitory. The roars of the party that was currently being held in the Hufflepuff common room wouldn’t even bother him. He had successfully completed the first task today, and he felt like he was on top of the world with his ornate golden egg.

Except, he could not stop thinking about you. He knew he needed to see you again.

He found himself smiling absentmindedly as he thought of you en route to the kitchen once again. He brought a hand to knock on the kitchen door excitedly, eager to see you again, to see what you had to say. He hadn't gotten a chance to talk to you at all today, despite spotting you in the stands immediately.

When an elf answered the door, he tried to dismiss how much his heart dropped. He was expecting to see you.

“Good evening,” he smiled politely to the elf. “I was wondering if you’ve seen [Y/N] tonight?”

“The Ravenclaw miss?” The elf frowned in confusion.

“Yes,” Cedric nodded with a fond smile playing on his lips. “Have you seen her tonight?”

The elf shook his head. “Not tonight, Mr. Diggory.”

He tried his best to mask his disappointment with a small smile. “I see. Thank you.”

He debated waiting outside the kitchen doors for you to turn up before deciding against it. That was probably a little creepy, right? Plus, seeing as the kitchens are right down the hallway from the Hufflepuff common room, he’d be running into too many of his friends in the meantime, anyway.

He knew that it had been a complete chance occurrence that night for him to run into you. It had allowed him to actually talk to you – beyond the curt words he’d exchanged with you in class. It allowed him to look at you as if he had all the time in the world – rather than stealing glances at you from the corner of his eye. It had allowed him to actually get to know you.

And, he found himself quickly realizing, chance events could only be relied on for gentle pushes in the right direction. In the end, he had to take his fate into his own hands. He had to grab his golden egg – he’d done it literally already. All he needed to do now was do it metaphorically.

He turned around and knocked for a second time on the kitchen door. When an elf answered the door – looking a little exasperated – Cedric wore his best apologetic smile.

“Can I get one of those biscuits, please? The ones the Ravenclaw miss likes?”

He set off at once towards your common room, with your favourite biscuits tucked in his arms.

He couldn’t wait for any more lucky run-ins with you anymore. He wanted to see you, and he was tired of waiting to run into you like he had on the previous two occasions.

“Padma!” He called as he spotted the fourth-year girl descending the spiral staircase.

“Yes?” She asked confusedly, unsure of what Cedric Diggory could possibly want from her at this hour.

“Is [Y/N] inside?” He asked. He knew how dishevelled he probably looked right now. After all, he had run from the other side of the school in the same uniform he had worn for the task this morning, with a bright blue packet of biscuits in hand. It wasn’t an ordinary sight.

Padma thought for a second, as if thinking back to remember every face she had seen on the way out of the common room. “I think so,” she concluded finally, remembering that she had seen you sprawled on a couch with a book in your lap.

“Can you get her for me, please?” He asked. Padma could sense the slight pleading tone in his voice as she gave him a quick nod and turned back to fetch you from inside the common room.

He looked around as she disappeared inside, trying to calm his beating heart for the second time that day. Somehow he’d successfully stolen the egg from right under the dragon’s nose – literally – today yet he found himself more nervous while waiting for you.

He knew the implications it carried, to ask for someone and wait outside their common room like this. You were bound to know now how he felt about you, how much he enjoyed being around you. He ran a hand through his hair quickly and tried to smooth out the honey-coloured top he was wearing before he heard you from the top of the stairs.

“Cedric!” you beamed as you spotted his familiar head of hair. You climbed down the stairs with a grin on your face and Cedric’s heart seemed to beat impossibly faster the longer he looked at you. He could never get enough of you saying his name like that. “I almost didn’t recognize you without that Swedish Short-Snout beside you.”

Cedric sent you a wry smile as you came to a stop in front of him. “I almost didn’t recognize you without all the food in your arms,” he retorted with newfound confidence.

“Is that why you have that?” you questioned with a raise of your eyebrows, gesturing towards the biscuits Cedric had long forgotten about.

“Oh,” he blinked. “Yes, um, they’re for you.” He held the packet out towards you with an attempted smile he really hoped was coming across as charming. It was hard to ignore the butterflies in your own stomach at the sight.

“Thanks,” your fingers brushed his and you almost chuckled at how quickly his cheeks flushed with an all-too-familiar red tinge. “Want me to walk you back?”

He raised a single eyebrow at your question before you added with a light nudge to his shoulder, “Evening strolls are customary at this point, right?”

He breathed a laugh at your remark – like he often found himself doing. He didn’t have it in him to protest. He wanted – no, needed – to spend every possible moment he could with you. The euphoria of this night was bound to wear off soon, he knew that. Tomorrow, he had to start worrying about the second task again. But walking with you, just as he had on that first night, always made his problems seem insignificant. And he needed that right now.

“So, what’s the deal with the golden egg?” you asked, reading his mind once again. He shook his head slightly in disbelief as a small smile crept to his face.

“No clue,” he answered honestly. “They make the most horrid shrieking sound whenever I try to open it. I’ve got no idea what it means.”

You hummed in response. “I could help you figure it out.”

Cedric sputtered, taken aback at your offer. Even his friends hadn’t offered to help him figure it out. “I would love that.” He told you gratefully, watching you closely for any signs of hesitation on your features. All he saw was genuinity.

“Tomorrow in the library, then? After supper?” You asked with a small smile. It was so endearing to watch his ears and cheeks redden.

“Yeah,” he breathed out quickly. “Tomorrow sounds great.” He couldn’t believe how he was still able to talk in coherent sentences.

“It’s a date, then,” you uttered with a sly smirk, holding his gaze.

He almost fell on his face, right then and there. Cedric thanked Merlin, then, for you two had finally reached the entrance to his common room, both of you coming to a halt. He wasn't sure if he would be able to walk after what you had just said. He blinked at you blankly before finding his voice. “Yes. Yes, it’s a date.”

You turned to leave with amused eyes at the boy’s reaction. Could he get any cuter?

Cedric had no idea what had possessed him. He hadn’t even had any firewhisky that night. But he found himself calling out to you anyway.

“Wait!” he called, making you turn around at once. Your curious eyes met his nervous ones and he walked closer to you. He had no idea what he was doing, but somehow the after-effects of all the adrenaline pumping through his body earlier today could still be felt twelve hours later. “I never got to thank you properly for your well wishes last night.”

“Oh?” you raised an eyebrow, your lips tugging upwards.

You tried to hide the absolute shock you felt when he leaned down to peck your cheek quickly. “As a thank you,” he clarified quickly. He watched carefully for your reaction, unsure if he should’ve done that or not.

It was safe to say you didn’t exactly mind.

Before he knew it, you were leaning up to press a chaste peck to his lips. He breathed in sharply as you pulled back to smirk at him. You had always been a competitive one.

“To congratulate you once again on your feat today,” you clarified wryly, watching him for any reaction so as to make sure you hadn’t overstepped.

It was safe to say you hadn’t.

Cedric didn’t take a moment to think before acting this time. He didn’t take a moment to gather his courage or analyze the best course of action. He acted on instinct, and instinct alone. And every instinct in his body was telling him to lean down again and crash his lips onto yours – properly this time.

So he did.

Cedric took his time kissing you with furrowed brows. The biscuits you so loved didn’t even come close to you. You tasted sweeter than any biscuit he’d ever had, any dessert that he’d ever tasted. He was sure that he could get addicted to the taste, to the feel. It wouldn’t really surprise him – he was already addicted to your presence.

You kissed him back with the same urgency, your hands wrapping around his neck to bring him even closer.

Pulling away slowly, he teased against your lips, “To thank you again for your heartiest congratulations.”

Your quip died on your tongue as cheers and whoops broke out in the background, forcing you two to break apart suddenly. You both turned to find Cedric’s friends watching this encounter with excited smiles and boyish eyes, standing in front of the entrance to the common room. Cedric’s mouth hung open a little as he wondered how he had missed them standing there. But then again, he had been a little preoccupied for the past minute or so.

“Atta boy, Diggory!” Trevor whooped, teasing him as you tried to smother a bashful smile of your own.

“Oh, sod off, Woods,” Cedric retorted with exasperation. “Go back inside, would you? I’m– I’m busy.”

“Oh,” Fairfield spoke up. “We can see just how busy you are, champ, not to worry.” Roars of laughter and whistles broke out again. “Come on, lads, we’ll bug him about it when he comes inside.”

“If he comes back inside at all tonight, that is!” More laughter.

Cedric cast a weak stinging hex at no one in particular as his friends all clambered back inside their common room. He turned to face you at once, possibly to apologize but you beat him to it.

“Here,” you told him with a knowing smirk, handing back the packet of biscuits. “I think you might be needing these more than I will tonight, champ.”

And, Merlin, you were right. He didn’t sleep a wink in his rowdy dormitory that night. Not that he minded though – thinking about all the real aspects of you that he had gotten to experience that night were even better than the dreams.

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sumsumstrashbin · 9 months

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐚 ~ 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✧

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 𝟏.𝟕𝐤

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐮𝐩, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐛. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 (𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫), 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝

𝐚/𝐧: 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐠𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐜𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐟. 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐟𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬. 𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐮!

─────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

You and the Marauders had been friends since your sixth year at Hogwarts. Your friendship with them began in the library one day while you were studying for a test. They had decided that you would be the victim of their prank for the day, sneaking up on you and causing your books to levitate and fly right out of the library.

Instead of letting them feel the pride of another successful trick, you decided to get them back. After spending the night brewing a very special potion, you carefully constructed a prank on them the next day. You promised Nearly Headless Nick that you would find him some rotten roast beef in exchange for his help. At breakfast, the ghost stole an item off of each of the Marauders, causing them to chase after him. As they ran out, you slipped a bit of potion into their drinks before returning to your seat casually.

The four boys entered the Great Hall again, out of breath from their chase through the halls. They all collapsed into their seats, downing their drinks without a second thought.

It only took a few moments for the potion to kick in, much to your delight. They were all chatting normally, when their voices started to transform. Within a matter of seconds, their voices were high-pitched and squeaky. Thanks to you, they spent the rest of the day with highly irritating voices that no one could bear to listen to.

They were completely shocked that anyone managed to prank them back, and they highly respected you for that. Although you found them annoying at first, they quickly became some of your closest friends.

Soon after becoming friends with them, you and James began facing constant pestering from the other three: they constantly spoke of how the two of you totally liked each other, and that you’d be a great couple. Of course, both of you denied it and continued to stay friends.

After graduation, you made sure to stay in touch with them. You would often see them multiple times a week, visiting them in their shared home or hosting them at your own. You and James had managed to deny your feelings for each other throughout seventh year and up until now. Well, until last week when he finally mustered up the courage to ask you on a date. You were shocked, but you had been hoping that he felt the same way since you had met, so you happily accepted his offer. He was equally surprised to hear you agree, but made sure to give you no time to second guess your decision. He gave you a date, time, and location, and left immediately.

─────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

It was the day before your date with James, and you were spending the evening babysitting your godson, Draco. You and Narcissa met at Hogwarts, as she was a prefect when you started. Although she was much older than you, she quickly became an older sister figure, and the two of you remained close. When Draco was born, she granted you the role of being his godmother, as she trusted your good nature and believed that you’d be a better option than Bellatrix.

Draco was only a few months old, so he didn’t require much entertainment. He had been asleep for most of the time, but you kept the bassinet right by the couch so that you could keep an eye on him. While he slept, you were spending your time reading a book.

The peaceful silence of your home was broken by a knock on your door. You stood up, placing the book down on the couch and checking on Draco to make sure that he was still asleep before heading to the door.

You opened the door to be met with a very sad and very wet James Potter, holding a soggy bouquet of flowers while his hair dripped water onto your doormat. His glasses were also covered in droplets, so he took them off to wipe them down before putting them back on his face.

“James? What are you doing here?” You questioned, taking in his soaking wet appearance.

“What do you mean, what am I doing here? You stood me up! I waited an hour for you!” He exclaimed, folding his arms. The wet bouquet of red roses slapped against his chest, causing water to flick right onto your face.

You wiped your cheek, looking at him with a perplexed look. “Shh, lower your voice. And what are you talking about? It’s the 16th. Our date is tomorrow.”

He stood there, completely dumbfounded. “What? I thought- are you sure?”

“I’m sure. You said the 17th.”

“Oh…I am so stupid. I put the wrong date in my calendar. Uh…” He looked down at the flowers, sighing before offering them to you. “I got you these.”

You smiled, taking the dripping wet bouquet from him. “Thank you, James. You’re a sweetheart. And an idiot.”

“I know, I know. But it adds to the charm though, doesn’t it?” He grinned cockily. “Since I’m here already, can I come in? We could always just move our date to today. And to your house instead of a restaurant.”

“We can, but I don’t think you’ll want to.”

“Nonsense.” He said, stepping past you and into your house. He kicked his shoes off, pulling out his wand and using a charm on himself to dry his clothes and hair. “Why wouldn’t I want to stay- oh.” His gaze landed on the self-rocking bassinet in your living room. “Who the hell is that?”

You stifled a laugh at his question. “That’s my godson, Draco. I’m babysitting.”

“Draco as in Draco Malfoy?” He asked, lowering his voice as he walked over to the bassinet.

“Mhm. Remember how I told you guys that Narcissa asked me to be his godmother?” You unwrapped the rose bouquet, starting to cut the stems to fit into a vase.

“Right. He has his father’s blindingly blonde hair.” He snickered to himself, settling on the couch.

As soon as he sat down, Draco woke up and immediately started to cry. You cursed, putting the scissors down to go and dry your wet hands. As you prepared to go soothe him, James picked him up. “I got him.”

“Are you sure? I can come get him.” You said, wiping your hands on the hand towel.

“Yeah, of course. Don’t worry about him.” He said, beginning to rock Draco in his arms. “Am I doing this right, though?”

You smiled at the sight of your crazy “friend” attempting to calm a screaming baby. “Yes, that should be fine.”

Draco began to settle down, and James sighed in relief. You were so busy watching them that you had stopped paying attention to what you were doing, which resulted in you cutting your finger. You yelped in pain, looking down at your bleeding finger. “Oops.”

“What’d you do?” He asked, walking over with Draco in his arms.

“My hand just slipped. It’s nothing.’ You said, going to the sink and running the water over it.

He shifted his position so that he could hold Draco in one arm, taking his wand out with his free hand. “Let me see.”

You shut the water off, showing him your finger. He aimed his wand at it, using a bandaging spell to wrap it up for you.

All of the time you spent waiting for him to ask you out, combined with his kind gesture of the flowers, soothing Draco, and tending to your finger was enough to make you want to grab his face and kiss him right then and there.

“Why did it take you so long to ask me on a date?” You questioned, looking up at him.

“Well, I didn’t know that you wanted me to. Trust me, I wanted to, and Sirius never shut his mouth about it. I just didn’t want to ruin our friendship. If I knew you were waiting for me, I would have asked the day after you pulled that prank on us.”

“Really?” Your heart fluttered at his words.

“Of course. Have my feelings for you not been obvious this entire time?” He queried, subconsciously rubbing Draco’s back to put him back to sleep.

“I guess they have been to everyone else, but not to me. I didn’t want to risk ruining our friendship either.” You admitted.

“Well, it’s certainly ruined now, and I couldn’t be happier about it. I’ve waited a long time for this, Y/n. And I know this isn’t an ideal first date, but it doesn’t matter to me. I’m just happy to be with you.”

“Me too.” You smiled, taking Draco from him gently. “I’ll put him back down and then we can spend some time together. Will you move the bassinet into my bedroom for me?”

─────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

James had helped you move Draco into your bedroom before the two of you settled onto the couch together. The warmth of the fireplace was keeping the chilly weather out, and the dim glow was illuminating the room in a soft light.

“Now that he’s asleep again, we should take advantage of our moment of freedom before he interrupts again.” James spoke, breaking the comfortable silence. “...I didn’t mean that in a suggestive way, I just meant that we can enjoy our first date in peace.” He clarified, chuckling nervously.

Before you could respond, he spoke again. “Alright, maybe I did mean it in a suggestive way.” Without hesitation, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. Despite being so eager, he kissed you with such tenderness that you could feel heat rising in your cheeks. After a few moments, he pulled away to look into your eyes.

“I waited way too long to do that.” He stated, glancing between your eyes and your lips.

“Yeah, it’s about damn time.” You said, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into another kiss.

The two of you spent the rest of the night sharing kisses and hushed conversations over the crackling sound of the fireplace. You ended up under a warm blanket, cuddling on the couch and basking in each other’s company.

─────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

#james potter #the marauders #marauders #maraudersera #prongs #james x reader #james potter x reader #james potter fic #marauders x reader #prongs x reader #harry potter #harry potter oneshots #james potter oneshots #hp #hp fanfic

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dreamcubed · 2 years

Text

king of my heart | mattheo riddle x reader

song; king of my heart [taylor swift] pairing; duke!mattheo riddle x baron's daughter!fem!bookworm!reader genre; arranged marriage, fluff, angst, hurt comfort, s2l word count; 11,2k timeline; bridgerton au warnings; minor character death, talk of death, minor character terminal illness, minor character severe injury (involving blood), abusive parents (verbal, neglect, vaguely implied physical), patriarchal gender roles, misogyny, implied ptsd, trauma-related nightmares (nothing graphic), verbal conflict summary; your refusal of marriage led your father to relinquish permission for you to choose your own husband, allowing him to make the decision himself and ensure the most status and wealth possible. the problem? the man he chose for you was closed off and arrogant

this is my longest oneshot yet so buckle yourself up!

masterlist

"i made up my mind, i'm better off being alone."

————————————————

Your father hadn't been pleased with you the last couple of years, as you had refused to attend the many balls of the engagement season. Marriage was not within your interests, no, your interests were with the shelves upon shelves of books in your family estate's library.

Of course, that did not matter to Baron D/N, as in his mind a daughter should only be at home until she is of marrying age, at which point she moves to her husband's estate. You despised the patriarchal traditions of your society, but because of those very same traditions, you could do little to change the matter.

"Y/N," he spoke to you at dinner one night, sat far away from you on the industrial-sized table, "Due to your refusal to find a husband, I have had no choice but to find one for you."

Your eyes snapped up to him in shock, and you felt the anger in your fingers as they clutched your cutlery tightly.

"Do not develop an attitude with me," he said, "I have been more than generous the last few years in allowing you to find your own match. You have no one but yourself to blame for refusing attendance at the balls of betrothal season."

"Why should I have to marry?"

"You are twenty years old. It is time you moved on from the L/N estate and last name."

"But why?"

"Because it is expected of you as a baron's daughter," he breathed a deep and angry sigh, "You will not bring shame on to this family."

"What about what I want?"

That is when your mother, the baroness, spoke up, "This is not a negotiation. A husband has been found for you, and- thanking the Lord above us- he is of a higher status than our family."

While your family held title as barons, it was still the second lowest aristocratic title - only two pegs above commoner. It allowed you luxuries such as a large home, servants, and respect, but the chances of you marrying into a higher status were often low. Your mother had come from a titleless family, but one that held a lot of wealth. It had been a blessing to her family to be invited to the prestigious engagement balls, where she met your father.

"He will be dining here tomorrow with his mother. A gown has been prepared for you for the occasion."

You knew there was no hope for protest, so instead asked, through gritted teeth, "What is his name?"

"Mattheo Riddle," your father replied, "The only son of Duke Thomas of Slytherin."

Surprise rippled within you: how had your parents persuaded someone of such high status to marry you? You wouldn't even inherit the title of baroness, as although you had no brothers, you were not the eldest child. Your oldest sister was the only daughter who would continue to live at home, with her husband who would become the baron.

"It was both fortunate and unfortunate timing," your father answered your question without you even speaking it out loud, "Much like yourself, Mattheo Riddle refuses to attend the betrothal balls, but he has finally been persuaded into marriage under his father's wishes."

"Duke Thomas is to pass soon," your mother continued for him, "His final wish before he parts is to see his only son married. It just so happened that your father wrote to him just after Mattheo had agreed to wed, and Duke Thomas jumped at the opportunity, despite our lower status."

"I did not expect anything to come of writing to him, of course," Baron D/N said, "I was merely trying my luck. Since he agreed so quickly, one can only assume that he does not have long left - not long enough to see his son through a betrothal season, at the very least."

You nodded, staring down at your plate.

Your worst fear had come to fruition.

***

"Stand straight, Y/N," your mother spoke harshly to you, as you stood in the entrance lobby of your house in a navy blue gown and a much-too-tight corset. Beside her stood your father, matching the sage green colour scheme your mother was adorning.

The grandfather clock at the foot of the stairs informed you that Mattheo and Duchess Isabella's arrival was imminent. On cue, the knocker of the front door echoed twice throughout the walls and ceilings of the estate, and a servant of yours rushed forward to let the guests in.

You immediately fell into a curtsy alongside your mother, while your father took a bow. A handful of what appeared to be bodyguards of some kind stood either side of the mother and her son, of whom were dressed grandly in dark green. You took the moment to take in Mattheo's appearance as, after all, he was to be your husband. He was taller than you (and looked somewhat older as well), with brown hair and a strong jaw, paired with dazzling yet cold eyes.

"Your graces," your father spoke, "It is an honour to host you in our humble home."

Duchess Isabella gave the slightest of curtsies, before she said, "The honour is all ours, Lord Bombast."

"May I introduce you to my wife, Baroness M/N, and my daughter, Y/N."

You curtsied again as the woman smiled gently at you.

"Then may I introduce you to my son, Mattheo, soon to be Duke of Slytherin."

The man stepped towards you first, and bowed as he took your hand in his and kissed the back of it, rising as he said his first words to you, "It is an honour to make your acquaintance, my Lady."

"Likewise, your grace."

Your party soon progressed into the dining hall, where you sat opposite Mattheo. You remained silent as your parents engaged in conversation.

"Yes, it is simply awful," Isabella said, "He was so worried that he would not live to see Mattheo wed, which is why he was simply ecstatic to receive your offer. He sends his utmost apologies for not being able to attend, of course."

"We completely understand," your mother replied, "Trust me, we place no blame on him for his absence."

"In an ideal world, he would have liked to see Mattheo through betrothal season - he has always believed in the course of natural love - but that is a tedious process and one he likely would not live til the end of. So few people follow the route of arranged marriages these days, so he really was rather glum. Your letter lifted his spirits immensely."

"I am glad for that," your father said, "I hope that his worries can rest now."

"They surely can," Isabella sighed, "Although I am saddened that it took Thomas being on his deathbed for Mattheo to finally agree to marriage."

You observed as Mattheo remained unreactive to the situation, and couldn't help but ponder what married life would be like with him. Would he allow you to indulge in your book obsession? Or would he expect you to fill the traditional role expected of a woman? It was terrifying to you, that this man held the power to take away your one true passion.

"Our daughter has been reluctant to marry also," your father said, "In the end, I had to make an overriding decision."

"How come?" Isabella looked in your direction, expecting you to answer.

Your mother quickly cut in before you could speak, "She has been pre-occupied with her love of literature, which we can hopefully leave to rest now."

"So you are an educated woman, Miss Y/N?"

You nodded, "I never wish to leave it to rest," you side-eyed your mother, much to her frustration.

Isabella hummed, "I do enjoy a good piece of literature from time to time, I think it is vital to have a passion for something in life."

"Where do your passions lie?" you couldn't help but ask.

"I adore art," she beamed at you, "You shall see how grand my collection is once you move to the estate- you needn't worry, of course, I shan't be there often. I plan to spend most of my time in the country house once Thomas passes."

"A painless passing I hope it is."

She smiled sincerely at you.

***

Once the meal concluded, your mother elected to give the Riddles a tour of the house, which caused you to fall to the back of the group alongside Mattheo.

"I don't know what you expect out of this union," he said to you suddenly, his tone harsh, "But I am not here for a relationship with you. I am here to allow my father to rest in peace, nothing more, nothing less."

"If you shall leave me to my literature, then I shall be more than content," you said in response, assuming a cold tone as well.

Evidently, you took him a bit by surprise, but he nodded nonetheless. "Very well then."

Perhaps the marriage would not be such a bad one, if Mattheo was to leave you to your own devices and allow you to continue your life of a bookworm. In fact, it may be an upgrade, as you would no longer have to deal with your parents' nagging about it being an unwomanly hobby.

It was then that your parents turned around to engage in conversation with Mattheo, leaving Isabella to take your side as she gave you a warm smile.

"My son may seem cold, but I promise you that he has a kind heart," she said quietly, so as not to be overheard, "I am somewhat worried about how he would treat his wife, though you seem very capable of standing your ground."

"I would like to think I am, your grace."

"You are to be my daughter-in-law, don't worry yourself with such formalities. Refer to me as Isabella."

"If- if you're sure."

"I certainly am," she sighed, "I think my son needs a wife who isn't afraid to argue with him, as controversial as that may be."

You looked forward to the back of Mattheo's head. "Is that so?"

She hummed, "He's too arrogant for his own good, though I love him so."

"I will do my best to be the wife he needs, Isabella."

"I have no doubt you will, Y/N."

***

The wedding was the following week: it also served as another betrothal event for the masses, as it was currently betrothal season. That element was under Duke Thomas' request, as he wished to see the magic of young love flourish once more before he died - his words.

Despite never wanting to get married, you had thought far enough along the idea to know that you would have preferred a smaller ceremony. You hadn't attended a ball since you were very young, and to be the centre of attention at such a glamorous event was very overwhelming. All eyes were on you as your father led you down the aisle, past the rows upon rows of people you hardly recognised. Your dress was suffocating, but gorgeous, being a mellow cream colour with baby blue embroideries decorating the extravagant skirt.

You felt shy with all the attention, and flicked between staring at the lilies in your hands and Mattheo who was stood at the altar. You hadn't seen him since you first met, but his expression was as cold as ever.

When you reached the step, your father guided your hand to Mattheo's extended one, and said something to him about trust and protection: you weren't really paying attention, as you were alarmingly aware of the nerves within you. Your body's auto-pilot was the only thing getting you to move to face Mattheo after handing the bouquet to your maid of honour - one of your sisters.

As the priest began the introductions, you reluctantly looked up at Mattheo to see that while his eyes were on your complexion, his mind was not. That all too familiar glaze of being zoned out was settled on him, and you couldn't help realise you must have looked the same. His hands felt cold in yours, but perhaps that was only because you were so hot from the anxiety. Even with all the sensations swirling inside of you, you couldn't help but appreciate how gorgeous your husband was; perhaps under different circumstances, you wouldn't have minded being courted by him.

No, those were silly thoughts. You held no desire for marriage.

"Miss Y/N L/N, do you take his grace Mattheo Riddle to be your lawfully wedded husband, and promise to care for him, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

"I do," you said as unwaveringly as you could, watching as Mattheo took the smaller gold ring from the velvet cushion presented by the ring bearer, and pushed it on to your left ring finger.

"And your grace Mattheo Riddle, do you take Miss Y/N L/N to be your lawfully wedded wife, and promise to care for her, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

"I do," he said monotonously, and with a shaking hand you then picked up the larger gold ring, and put it on his finger - praying to God that he didn't notice your nerves.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!"

You chewed on your lip, looking up at Mattheo who appeared to be unmoving. For a moment, you thought he wouldn't bother with the final touch of a wedding ceremony, but then his lips were on yours. It was chaste, and only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough for you to get butterflies, and then hate yourself for that.

Cheers then erupted from the audience, and you both turned to face them hand-in-hand, providing a curtsy on your end and a bow on his for them all to see. In the corner of your eye, you saw your mother and father smiling- for once- proudly at you from their seats. Next to them sat the Duke, looking as ghastly pale as ever, with the Duchess sat by his side. In spite of his illness, Duke Thomas looked incredibly happy, and that was the one upside to all of this, you supposed: you had fulfilled someone's dying wish, and surely that was a good deed.

As the progression from the church to the Slytherin estate began, you were faced with many rushing to you to offer their congratulations. You thanked them politely, finding yourself fiddling with your new gold wedding ring as a nervous habit. It appeared appropriate to attach yourself to Mattheo's arm as you walked, and so you did just that. Even if he wanted to, he made no objections, and remained appallingly aloof to everyone that spoke to him.

You at least had the decency to be kind to people, despite the fact you did not want to be there just as much as him.

When you reached the Riddle estate, you were shocked to see how large it was. You had never taken for granted the considerable size of your own home, but in comparison to the Duke's it was nothing but a shed in the back garden.

In the dining hall, the meal began after Duke Thomas provided a toast, one that Duchess Isabella had to help him out with due to his poor health. They were both still in good spirits, even after your father provided a somewhat backhanded toast about you a few moments later. Still, his words reminded you that you would no longer have to live with him and his distaste for your interests.

The library in this estate must be enormous.

After the food was finished, guests began to be ushered to the ballroom where a live band was playing elegant music on their violins and flutes. As per tradition, you engaged in a dance with your new husband, unsure of where to rest your eyes. You landed on his own eyes, as that would be where the audience would expect you to be looking. He returned your gaze with a ferocity that you didn't expect, and it was only then you realised how firmly his hand gripped the small of your back.

Soon other couples joined the dance floor, allowing the two of you to segue off. The peace didn't last long, of course, as everyone was interested in speaking with you both. By this point, your social battery was drained, so you let Mattheo do the talking even though his demeanour was cold and unwelcoming. It was evident how highly he thought of himself just in the way he spoke.

You remained attached to his side, feeling exhaustion all over your body, as he worked his way through the number of eager guests. You had forgotten how shy you got when you were socially tired, and subconsciously found yourself leaning into Mattheo for comfort.

Eventually, you were able to disappear from Mattheo's side and from the ball to sit outside in the gardens, where the night breeze gently tickled your cheeks. The corset was as tight as ever, but you finally felt as if you could breathe somewhat as you admired the starry night sky.

"May I join you?" a feminine voice spoke from your side.

You were a little startled, but looked in the voice's direction to see a woman who appeared to be almost a female version of Mattheo.

"I am Countess Delphini of Oslashire," she curtsied at you, "Mattheo's sister."

You stood up to curtsy back, and went to introduce yourself despite her evidently knowing who you were, but then realised you didn't know what to say for yourself anymore.

Sensing your confusion, she smiled, "It'll only be a short time before you're Duchess Y/N of Slytherin, but for now I suppose you should just say future duchess."

You nodded at her, sitting back down on the bench and gesturing for her to do the same. "Has he always been cold to everyone?" you asked.

She chuckled, "Yes, I suppose he has. He never much liked what was expected of him and grew resentful because of that."

"I can't say I'm all that different in that sense."

"No? Well, then, one can hope that makes you a good match."

You hummed.

"I heard from Mother that you have a love for literature. Is that so?"

"It is. I surely hope Mattheo shan't make me give it up."

"I doubt it. He never was one to care for tradition."

You had obviously already discussed this with Mattheo himself, but you didn't know what else to talk about with Delphini.

"You have your consummation shortly, though," she said, "And while I doubt Mattheo cares for it, everybody else does."

You nodded, "I am aware. The bedding ceremony is just for tonight, though."

"I wish you all the best in your marriage, of course," she gave you a genuine smile yet again, "Write to me if he causes you any trouble - as his big sister I'm sure I can talk some sense into him."

"Thank you, Lady Courtesy."

"Delphini," she corrected, "You're my sister now."

You smiled, "Thank you, Delphini."

***

Delphini had been correct about Mattheo's stance on the bedding ceremony, but he still made the effort to keep up appearances...

...by providing a vial of animal blood to make it look as if you successfully consummated.

You did indeed share the bed that night, but it was in complete silence and as far away from each other as you could manage. When you arose the next day, the servants rushed in and were satisfied to see the blood stain left directly on the centre of the bed, and hurried off to share the news.

Shortly after you were dressed, Isabella knocked on the door with a face wrinkled with worry, and you and Mattheo could instantly recognise the problem. Mattheo rushed out of the door, while you stayed idly behind with the duchess.

"Come," she said, "He will want to see you, you're his daughter-in-law."

You nodded, and followed her to the master bed chamber. When you reached the grand double-door, Mattheo was just exiting, and looked up at his mother solemnly, yet ignored you. Delphini sat on a red velvet bench along the hallway, her eyes cast down.

"He requested Y/N's presence," he said, his voice sounding hollow.

Dumbstruck, you approached the door and tapped twice on the wood. The faintest of "you may enter"s came in response, allowing you to enter the room.

Duke Thomas was sat in bed, in his nightwear, visibly much paler and more exhausted than he was the day prior. Cushions behind him propped up his weak form and a table for in-bed eating was set to the side with half-eaten soup in a fine china bowl. Despite his grave illness, he gave you a small smile.

"I am relieved to hear that your consummation was a blessed one," he said in a gravelly voice, followed by an awful coughing fit, to which you hurried to his side to hand him the glass of water from his bedside table.

"Please, drink, your grace."

He accepted the water, and struggled to swallow some of it. "You are a kind soul," he eventually spoke again, "It is comforting to know my son is in capable hands."

"I will do my best to care for him... and our future children, your grace."

"I have no doubt," he sighed, "I wish that I did not have to leave my dear Isabella and children so soon, but it is the Lord's decision. He knows what he is doing."

"May your journey to heaven be a peaceful one."

He hummed ever so faintly, just as another coughing fit began. This time, he refused the water. "My death is almost upon me. Please, I am entrusting you with Mattheo. As the next duchess, you must keep him in line as Isabella has done so for me."

"Of course, your grace."

"That is all I had to say... I would like to spend my last moments with my wife, so if you could please fetch her for me, I would be eternally grateful."

"Right away, your grace, it has been a pleasure to speak with you."

"You as well."

You quickly exited the chamber, and looked towards Isabella who was sat next to Mattheo and Delphini on the bench. They were all holding hands with one another, and while the duchess and her daughter showed signs of tears, Mattheo did not.

"He requested his wife in his final moments," you bowed your head, as Isabella sniffed and stood up hurriedly.

"Thank you, my darling," she touched your cheek softly, which made you freeze. Her touch was gone as quickly as it came, but you remained glued to your spot, relishing in the brief feeling of being genuinely cared for.

Delphini graced you with a precious smile when you finally looked in the siblings' direction, and shifted away from Mattheo to gesture for you to sit in between them.

Out of politeness, you obliged, unsure of how to act. You couldn't help but be consumed with sadness also, as that was the closest you had ever gotten to witnessing death, and it pained you. However, you did not want to make the situation about you, and so simply allowed Delphini to take your hand when she sought comfort.

As for Mattheo, you did not know what to do, or what to say. He was not looking at you: his gaze was trained ahead of him as if he were boring holes into a particular spot on the wallpaper opposite.

You don't know how long it was before Isabella rejoined the three of you, composed, yet evidently heartbroken - but it simultaneously felt as if it had been a while, and mere seconds. Delphini rushed to bring her mother into her arms, while Mattheo stood up with a deep breath. You stood beside him, not touching him in anyway, but still close.

"My condolences, my Lord," you said softly.

He did not reply. His eyes remained trained on to the same spot as before.

You knew better than to say anything more to him, and as you turned your gaze back to the sobbing mother and daughter, a thought settled in you: you were now the Duchess of Slytherin.

***

After the funeral, Delphini returned to Oslashire with her husband, and - true to her word - Isabella retreated to the countryside. Mattheo then moved into the master bed chamber, leaving you behind in his old room as neither of you held the desire to share with the other. The several nights that you had been forced to share a bed were awkward, silent, and socially distanced.

You soon found solace in the depths of the substantial Slytherin estate library, where you were only ever bothered by maids dusting the shelves. The large room - much bigger than the one back home - was kitted with plush sofas and armchairs, along with darkened oak desks. You felt at home in the space, and often didn't bother to wear more than a simple plain frock there, with no corset. It was certainly unbecoming of a duchess, but who was there to see you?

Mattheo had a very busy schedule after his father's passing, likely due to having to re-establish allyships and connections. You didn't know for sure, however, as the two of you seldom talked. To keep appearances up for the servants who liked to gossip, you would eat your supper together in the evenings and engage in emotionless small talk, but that was it. The subject matter never ventured further than a brief synopsis of your day's activities, and comments on the quality of the food.

It was obvious he wasn't paying attention when you told him of the new books that you had begun reading, but it wasn't like you were listening either when he spoke about the titleholders he had met with. You would be a hypocrite to be offended by it.

Though, you soon found yourself standing outside of Mattheo's work study, as you had a request itching at the back of your mind. You wanted to begin writing your own novel: to do that you would prefer a typewriter over a quill. Perhaps he would grant you what you wished, after all, it was the first thing you were asking of him.

You nervously tapped on the door three times, praying that your maid had been correct about his whereabouts and you weren't standing outside of an empty office like a fool.

"Who is it?"

"Your wife, my Lord."

You could hear the surprise in his tone when he said, "You may enter."

You complied, and upon entering felt embarrassed about the warmth his appearance left in you. He had removed his blazer, and was simply in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. You would be a fool to say he was unattractive.

"What is it you want?" he looked up from the layers of parchment on his desk, his eyes locking with yours. You noticed the black typewriter sat on the edge of the desk and allowed your gaze to linger on it, which he noticed.

"I have a request."

"And what would that be?" his eyes were back on his work.

"I would like a typewriter."

He stilled the movement of his quill, looking at you again with curiosity in his eyes. It was the most emotion you had ever witnessed on him. "What for?"

"I wish to write my own novel, my Lord."

The next few seconds of silence felt suffocating to you as you couldn't at all read Mattheo's expression.

"I understand it is not very womanly of me, however nothing in our marriage is traditional so I concluded that it wouldn't be an outrageous request."

"Very well," he said eventually, "I will arrange a typewriter for you."

"Thank you," you curtsied out of gratitude, "I will not make waste of it."

He watched curiously as you then excused yourself from the office, as he found you a rather peculiar woman. Truth is, you were not what he had expected out of an arranged marriage: he had expected your family to only care for status and wealth, which may be true of your parents, but not you. No, you didn't care for the fact you were the duchess of a large area, or for the hundreds of expensive clothing you could afford: you only cared for literature, which didn't cost him a penny thanks to the size of his library. The typewriter would be the first charge put to your name since you wed.

Yes, you were peculiar, and you fascinated him.

***

There was a typewriter sat on one of the desks in the library the following afternoon, which you saw upon returning from lunch. You hadn't expected your request to be filled so efficiently, but you were far from disappointed: only excitement consumed you as you hurried to take a seat in front of it.

An envelope was laid across the keyboard, with the official Riddle family wax seal keeping it shut. With a frown, you opened it, to see it was a short note from what appeared to be your husband.

I wish to be the first to read your novel once it is completed. - M.R.

You couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips as you felt that familiar warmth inside you yet again. Your parents would have laughed at you if you had even hinted at the idea of wanting to be an author, but Mattheo - of whom lovelessly married you to please his father - seemed genuinely supportive of your goals.

Perhaps it was arrogance that made him think he had the right to read it first, but that was a thought you quickly pushed aside. You didn't care if it was.

It took you awhile to get used to the feel of typing on a typewriter, and many times did you have to remove the paper and white-out your mistakes, but you couldn't be more thrilled. The ideas swirling in your head were taking life on the pages before you, and you found yourself almost halfway through the outline of the plot you had created by the time a week had passed.

Friday afternoon was when Mattheo entered the library with somebody by his side, someone of whom you didn't recognise. You looked up from your work curiously, as your husband never ventured to this part of the estate.

"This is my library," he said to the man, who had platinum blond hair and a lean figure, "My copy of Dawns Before Dusks should be in here somewhere."

"What purpose is that maid serving?" the man jabbed his thumb in your direction.

You were mildly offended, but then again, you were dressed in relatively casual clothing, and (like usual) you lacked a corset.

Mattheo looked at you, and then looked back at the man, "That is my wife, Duchess Y/N of Slytherin."

One would have thought that the man would be taken aback and started muttering apologies, but all he said was, "She is not dressed like a duchess."

"My Lady," Mattheo said to you, ignoring the man. Your attention was caught in further surprise: he rarely addressed you in such a manner. "This is Earl Draco of Ranibury, an old friend of mine. He spends a lot of time abroad, so he was unable to attend the wedding."

"Pleasure," Draco looked you up and down, which made you feel small.

Mattheo took his inner cheek between his tongue. He didn't know why he felt so defensive of you, but how dare someone of a lesser rank not bow to you, his wife?

In order to ease the tension, you stood up and asked, "What was it you were looking for? I know the library quite well, I am sure I can be of service."

"Dawns Before Dusks by Andrew Philips," your husband replied.

You nodded, vaguely remembering running your fingers over it as you searched the shelves not too long ago.

"What is a woman doing behind a typewriter?" you heard Draco ask as you moved to the part of the library you remembered seeing the book in.

"She is writing a novel," Mattheo replied, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, which in your society, it was not.

"She should be birthing children, not writing silly little romances."

Your fist tightened. You weren't writing a romance.

"What my wife does is none of your concern, Lord Courtesy."

You watched as Draco's eyes narrowed through the bookshelves.

"My apologies, your grace."

Your fingers skimmed over the requested book, and you pulled it off the shelf before finding your way to where they stood.

"Here it is, my Lord," you handed it to your husband, purposefully ignoring Draco.

"Thank you, my Lady," he gave you the sincerest smile you had ever received from him, and the way you looked as a result must have been obviously flustered. "Please return this when you have finished reading it," he then said to Draco, "I hope you enjoy it."

"I hope so too."

You were glad to see Earl Draco of Ranibury depart.

***

At dinner that evening, you were more than shocked to hear words of apologies exit your cold-hearted husband's mouth.

"I must apologise for Draco's behaviour earlier. He had no right to disrespect you in such a manner."

"It's- it's alright."

"It most certainly is not, no wife of mine should be-" he stopped himself as his tone became angrier and harsh, which caught you off guard.

Was he defensive over you? How come?

"Nonetheless," he cleared his throat, his voice calmer, "I will not be having him visit anytime soon."

You nodded, "Thank you, my Lord." Admittedly, Earl Draco had put you on edge.

"But on the subject of visits, we are visiting your parents' estate for dinner tomorrow evening. They invited us."

You felt your breath hitch. You had been so utterly relaxed without your parents breathing down the back of your neck whenever you dared to open a book, to the point you had somewhat forgotten of their existence.

Mattheo observed your reaction carefully, but he didn't say anything, instead choosing to continue with the meal in silence.

***

"Welcome back to our humble estate, Mattheo," your mother said to your husband in the entrance hall, completely disregarding your presence. You hadn't missed the cold and unloving walls that once again surrounded you.

"Your grace," your husband passive aggressively corrected, "That is your grace to you, Lady Bombast."

Your mother's face contorted into an expression of mild horror, but she quickly composed herself and said, "I was assuming that as your mother-in-law such formalities would be wavered."

"Well, you assumed wrong," Mattheo held his arm out for you to take, to which you obliged.

"I trust my daughter isn't giving you too much trouble," she continued, sparing a harsh glance in your direction.

Subconsciously, your grip tightened on Mattheo's bicep, and the action did not go unnoticed by him.

"Not in the slightest, Lady Bombast," he said, taking you by surprise with the hint of softness in his tone, "She is a pleasure to have in the house."

"Really?" had you not known your mother like you did, you wouldn't have noticed that the joking tone was feigned. However, the slither of sharpness to her voice as she said the simple word stood out to you like a glaring red warning sign: she was both shocked and horrified that your husband spoke nicely of you.

"Please, come through to the dining hall," your father interceded, having the slightest of word fumbles before adding, "Your grace."

Once all four of you were sat down for the meal, you could only chew on your goose as you listened to your parents talk about themselves for Lord knows how long. Eventually, however, the conversation was somehow steered over to you, despite how little relevance you actually had in their lives.

"One can hope that the literature habit has been put to rest," your father said, looking at Mattheo in a way that suggested it was a question.

"Why would it have been put to rest?" your husband asked in response.

"It's unbecoming of a lady, of course," your mother interjected, "This has been discussed already."

"It's hardly unbecoming to be intelligent and educated, Lady Bombast."

"For a woman it is," your father said, the touch of anger to his tone evident.

You remained silent as Mattheo straightened his back and looked towards you.

"In my family, it is seen as a virtue to have a wife or daughter of whom is intellectually capable. In fact, it is vital. What if something were to happen to me while our children were still young? My Lady Y/N would have to be in charge until the eldest is an adult. It would not do for her to be incapable of such a task."

Your parents, for once, were completely silent. Meanwhile, you couldn't stop a smile from itching to form on your face.

"Y/N has recently started writing her own novel, in fact. That is something the average man even struggles with, so perhaps it would do for you to stop speaking down to my wife, especially when she is your superior?"

"Of course, your grace, my apologies," your father eventually spoke.

Mattheo scoffed, and your eyes widened further.

"Classically stupid of a man such as yourself to apologise not to the woman you have offended, but to her husband."

You observed as your father gulped discreetly and made eye contact with you. "My apologies, Y/N."

For the first time, you decided to speak up, still feeling spiteful towards them. "Your grace," you corrected, pleased to see your father's shocked reaction, "It's your grace to you, Lord Bombast."

"Surely you don't mean that," your mother said, "We are your parents, Y/N-"

"Once you have earned the right to address me by my first name, I will allow you to do so."

You flicked your eyes to Mattheo, of whom had the vague ghost of a smirk gracing his lips as he looked at you.

***

Due to the journey between the Riddle estate and your childhood home being a long one, you and Mattheo were to stay the night at your parents'. This, of course, meant that you would be sharing a bed chamber as well as a bed, as your parents were not aware of your unusual sleeping arrangement at home.

Once you exited the large wardrobe in your night robes, you couldn't help but smile at Mattheo sat at the foot of the bed in await for his turn to change. This moment wasn't like the short period after you had just wed when the two of you shared, no, back then you wouldn't dare to look in his direction at all. In fact, you would be long asleep by the time he retired from his office, and he would be long gone by the time you awoke. You would've believed he didn't sleep in the same bed at all if it weren't for the couple of occasions you woke up in the middle of the night needing to use the toilet, to see him asleep on his side of the bed.

Now that you thought about it, you hadn't gone to bed at both the same time and place as him since the day of your wedding.

"Thank you, my Lord," you said gently, giving him a pathetically subtle curtsy, "I appreciate you defending my honour."

"You may call me Mattheo, darling."

Your stomach flipped at the nickname, and you nodded your head a little too excitedly, "Thank you, Mattheo."

"Of course," he stood up, facing you proudly, "No wife of mine should be disrespected in such a manner."

You smiled, and for a second he looked like he was going to return it, but then he disappeared into the wardrobe to get changed himself. Despite that, you didn't feel defeated in the slightest - no, you felt hopeful that this marriage might not be a loveless one, even if it took a while.

It was that night that you had a nightmare.

It was strange, really, that you had never once had a nightmare when growing up within those walls, despite your parents disregarding you every step of the way, leaving you to be raised by the servants. You had never even been a child who frequented nightmares unrelated to home life: consisting of ghouls and monsters, as was normal at a young age. No, you weren't someone to have night terrors.

Perhaps it was the fact you had lived in peace for a short while, away from the suffocation of your parents, which allowed your body to relax and leave its default defensive mode. Yes, that was it - you were off your guard when you arrived for the dinner, and no longer had an effective tolerance for everything bothersome in this estate. Suddenly, your mother's words were no longer something you were used to, and the eery cold draught that followed you around the hallways was no longer something you could ignore.

You were weakened by having experienced a peaceful life, and thus everything in your alleged home was affecting you negatively, like it had tried to do so for years.

You didn't know whether you were frustrated or relieved that you had subconsciously put down your shield.

But, right now, as you watched walls around you close in, with torn book pages flying around, you just felt scared.

"Y/N, Y/N," you heard a panicked voice say, and just like that you were pulled back into a reality where you no longer were being suffocated.

You took in a large gulp of air - ever grateful to feel the oxygen fill your lungs - and forced your eyes open. There, in your line of vision, was Mattheo's head hanging over yours, his hands gripping each of your arms.

His worried expression relaxed once he realised that you were awake, but it formed again when he saw the hot tears flooding your cheeks.

"Are you okay?" he hurriedly asked, moving his hands from your arms to the mattress either side so he could support himself better without hurting you.

That was when a sob escaped your mouth, and as your vision blurred, you lifted your arms up and wrapped them around his neck, pulling him down so he fell on top of you. You began crying into his shoulder, only mildly aware that he wasn't trying to pull away at all, instead letting you hold him. He slowly returned the embrace by dropping one hand into your hair and the other on your waist.

When your sobs eventually died down, he moved from on top of you to a seated position against the headboard, and wordlessly pulled you up with him and into his side.

"Darling, it was just a nightmare," he finally spoke.

You shook your head, "It was too real."

"No matter how real it felt, you are safe now. Safe with me."

Subconsciously, you nuzzled your head into his shoulder and felt the warmth radiating off him.

You remained in silence for a while, but eventually, you parted your lips again to make a statement that caused a switch to flip inside of Mattheo.

"I want to go home."

***

When you returned back to the Slytherin estate, it quickly became apparent that something had changed between you and Mattheo. You started spending breakfast with him as well as dinner, and occasionally he would visit you in the library.

Deep down, you wanted to share a bed with him again and feel the comfort of his presence while you slept, but never would you ask such a question. Instead, you opted to build the courage up to visit him in his work study during the day, with a book clutched in your hand.

"Your grace, his grace is very busy and does not want interruptions at this moment," one of the servants dedicated to your husband said to you, just as you reached the corridor where the work study was.

You don't know what it was inside of you that made you feel so highly of yourself, but you then said, "I am his wife, my husband's rules do not apply to me."

"Of course, your grace," the servant bowed his head, "My apologies."

You nodded at him, and proceeded to where the door you were after was.

You knocked twice.

"What is it?" a harsh tone replied - similar to that of the one he used when you first met.

Instead of replying, you slowly pushed open the door and peeked into his work space.

"Reuben, I told you not to bother-" he stopped speaking when he saw you, and his irritated expression dropped, "-oh."

You bowed your head as you fully entered the room, "My apologies for the interruption, my Lo- Mattheo."

"That's quite alright," he said, "Did you need something?"

You opened your mouth so speak, but then realised that you had no answer to his question.

Mattheo saw the book in your hand, and asked, "Is that a book recommendation for me?"

"No- yes- I-" you steadied yourself, so as to stop the slur of words, "It is a marvellous book that you should read, though I have not finished it myself yet."

He raised an eyebrow at you, wordlessly questioning your presence in his office further.

Your eyes flitted to the armchair tucked in the corner of the room and facing the desk that your husband sat at. "I was- I was..." you took a deep breath, "I was hoping I could join you in here and read while you worked."

"Oh-"

"It was a stupid idea of me, though, my utmost apologies for bothering you, my Lord," you said hurriedly, "Please don't blame Reuben - he did say no interruptions but I used my higher status to force him to let me proceed."

"Darling, if you would allow me to speak, I would like to say that you are welcome to join me in here," he gave you a smile.

And you froze. Mattheo had never truly smiled at you before. Not like that: full and genuine. Not even back in the library when Draco had been present had his smile been so warm.

"I see you had your eyes on the armchair. Feel free to take it."

You forced yourself to nod, despite your composure remaining rigid. He gave you an encouraging look, which allowed your body to slowly unfreeze and move over to the green velvet armchair. Your usual lack of a corset meant that getting comfortable on the chair was easy, and you were soon curled up with the book as if you were a cat.

Mattheo continued with his work, but allowed himself the luxury of glancing at you every now and then, admiring you caught up in your own world.

***

Of course, things were going too perfectly for too long, and you should have realised that a loving marriage with Mattheo wouldn't be an easy feat to achieve. But, to be fair, the obstacle you were faced with was neither of yours fault.

"Your grace," Reuben had said worriedly to your husband, on another day that you had elected to join him in his work study. It was getting rather late, and the sky was already darkening. "Unfortunate news from the former duchess."

Mattheo's face had immediately paled, "What is it?"

"Your mother has taken a rather substantial fall while exploring the woods surrounding your countryside estate," the servant said as quickly as he could, "She is alive - but the injury was severe and she has lost a lot of blood."

"Reuben, prepare the carriage," your husband instructed.

"Yes, your grace," Reuben bowed, and scurried out of the room.

"Mattheo-" you said gently.

"I need to be alone at this moment," he cut you off, much more harshly than he had spoken to you in a long while.

You were hurt, but stood up nonetheless, "Of course, I understand." And then you left the room.

One thing was for sure, however: you weren't letting him go to the countryside estate alone.

It became apparent that he had expected it to be a solitary journey when he was surprised to see you waiting in the entrance hall dressed in appropriate travel wear.

"My Lady, this is a journey I must make alone," he said, his tone cold.

You disguised your furthered hurt well, and shook your head. "It would be disrespectful of me not to visit my mother-in-law when she is so severely injured."

"I do not want you with me." That statement cut deep, but along with the pain came another emotion: anger.

"I will not be treated in such a way," you snapped, "I am your wife, and I am here for you no matter what."

"You hardly know me."

"Because all you do is shut me out," your anger was fizzling into upset, and he could hear that you were suppressing a sob when you said, "So, stop it. Stop it."

Mattheo stood staring at you in silence: with only the candle lamps providing light, his eyes looked darkened. You could just make out that he had his inner cheek pulled between his teeth, judging by the dent in his smooth skin that you could see through your somewhat blurry vision. Finally, he reacted to what you said, and started taking powerful strides in your direction.

Instinctively, you began backing up, but you could only move backwards so far as you soon hit the wall.

Mattheo stilled a few inches in front of you, and appeared to be glaring into your eyes with a ferocity he had only ever briefly shown you before. Sure, he had been cold and arrogant for a while, but he had never been vicious.

You were, admittedly, convinced that he was about to slap you- punch you- hit you in some way or other.

But he didn't.

Instead, his lips crashed on to yours, which caught you so off guard you let out a "hmmph" while his hands cupped your face. The kiss was chaste until you recovered from your shock and took the step to deepen it, allowing Mattheo to begin moving his lips against yours in reciprocation.

"Your grace, the carriage is rea-" Reuben's voice came to a halt as you and Mattheo quickly separated from one another, although he didn't move away from you. The servant bowed deeply, his face paled, "My apologies, your grace, I did not mean to interrupt. I simply came to inform you that the carriage is ready for departure."

"Thank you, Reuben," your husband said, although he wasn't looking at the poor servant - no, he was holding intense eye contact with you, his hand having moved to rest on the wall beside your head.

Reuben looked shocked at having been thanked, but a small grin soon settled on his face as he disappeared back outside to where the carriage presumably was. Of course, Mattheo didn't see that, as his back faced the entrance.

"You told me at the beginning of this marriage that if I left you to your literature you would be more than content, and I have done exactly that. You lied to me," his words seemed harsh, but the teasing tone woven into his voice told you otherwise.

You shrugged, letting a cheeky smile grace your features, "I blame you for making me fall in love."

Mattheo stilled entirely, and you were about to apologise for the impromptu confession, but he spoke again before you could.

"Come, we must get moving," he said, pulling away from you entirely.

You regretted dropping the L word, but at least he wasn't stopping you from going with him.

***

The journey was long: so long that you slept a significant amount of it. Mattheo was too sick with worry to drift off, but he let you lay your head in his lap as you stretched across the velvet seat.

When you woke up, the sky was a golden-orange and the sun was peeking over the horizon, glistening through the open carriage window. You pushed yourself up from Mattheo's lap as you yawned, rubbing your eyes and settling against the backrest.

"How much longer?"

"About another hour."

"Have you slept at all, my Lord?"

He shook his head, and changed the subject, "I have told you already, you don't always have to call me my Lord. Mattheo is fine."

"Right, sorry," you said, suddenly remembering what had happened not long before you left the estate, "I'm sorry for- I'm sorry for saying that back then."

"Saying what?"

"That I... that I - you know - love you."

You watched carefully as he pursed his lips. "It's fine, I- I am not angry with you. I just do not believe I am ready to say it yet."

"Don't feel obliged to say it," you added, "I wasn't expecting a return, but I want to be honest with you. That's how a healthy marriage works, right?"

"Yes, I appreciate it," he gave you a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. You knew that the sadness swimming in his irises had very little to do with you, of course.

***

The countryside estate was much smaller than the main one, but it was still larger than your childhood home. Despite its smaller size, you found it to be more appealing than any previous house you had seen, with the surrounding trees accentuating the controlled yet chaotic flower gardens surrounding the main building. There were a couple gardeners tending to the area, and they clearly had instructions to keep things homely and natural - as opposed to symmetrical and neat, like your usual place of residence.

The very second you stepped over the threshold, Mattheo hurried off in the direction of his mother's bed chamber; you decided he would want some time alone with her at first, and so took control of ordering the servants to bring your belongings inside. The only worker who came with you on the journey was the carriage driver, who was in much need of some rest.

"The master chamber is prepared for you and the duke, your grace," what appeared to be the head servant of this estate spoke.

"Oh- okay," you didn't know how to tell the servant that you slept separately, as Mattheo had taken care of those arrangements when they were first put in place. Instead, you opted to leave the subject alone for now. "What is your name?"

"Diane Higgs, your grace," she curtsied, "At your service."

"Could you prepare breakfast, Diane? We're awfully hungry after such a long journey."

Diane didn't hesitate to pass the message to the kitchens as you felt another rumble in your stomach. You also felt the desire to freshen up, but decided that you should see Isabella before then, so asked the nearest servant where her chamber was.

You knocked on the door when you reached it, and a familiar feminine voice called out, "Who is it?"

"Y/N."

"Oh, darling, come in," the kind woman replied, giving you the green light to turn the door handle and enter, "You needn't knock, Lord knows that Mattheo didn't."

You smiled abashedly, pleased to see her so chipper despite her shallowed complexion. Mattheo was sat on a chair beside the large king-size bed, holding his mother's hand in his own.

Closing the door behind you, you stepped further into the room and cautiously sat at the end of the bed, facing them both.

"How are you feeling?"

"The doctor says I am gradually improving," she sighed, "But it's still early days. The wound has been stitched up-" she gestured to her leg, which was covered by the duvet, "-so it's simply a matter of whether or not it becomes infected."

"The doctor said it was a miracle you didn't die after such blood loss," Mattheo added, "And that your weakened state could mean your body will not be able to fight even the mildest of infections."

"Ever the pessimist," Isabella dismissed him with a wave of her hand, making you crack a small smile, "You take after your father in so many ways, Mattheo."

The man in question rolled his eyes.

"Ah," the former duchess exclaimed, "I am rather hungry, perhaps we should tell the kitchens to prepare breakfast."

"I already did," you said, "I am famished myself."

"Perfect! That means it shan't be long. Normally it's ready when I wake up, but somebody here woke me up earlier than normal." She gave a teasing side-glare to her son.

"I have been worried sick about you, Mother. I couldn't wait any longer for confirmation you are alive."

Isabella chuckled, "Delphini should be here soon. She is a tad further away so it takes her longer." The last sentence was clearly said in your direction.

"Is her husband coming?" you asked.

"I doubt it, the two seldom travel long distances together. Plus, I don't believe the man particularly cares for me."

"I find that hard to believe," you said, genuinely shocked.

"Not everyone is as sweet as you, darling, my son is very lucky."

You looked at Mattheo to see his eyes were already cast on you, the faintest ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

"I shall instruct the servants to deliver everybody's breakfast here," he announced, as if to distract from the subject.

Neither you nor Isabella objected to him leaving the room: part of you wanted some time alone with the woman of whom had been more of a mother figure to you than your own flesh and blood anyway.

"I hear you're writing a novel."

You looked up in surprise, "He told you?"

"Yes, very enthusiastically, too. He certainly adores you."

Your cheeks warmed at the notion. "I have actually finished it now. There are probably still many mistakes, but I have the original copy bound and ready to send to a publisher's."

"Oh, really?"

You suddenly stood up, "I brought it with me - I did promise Mattheo that he could have the first read, but I am sure he would want me to let you instead considering you are bed-bound."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course," you nodded, "I shall fetch it."

Isabella watched as you left with a full smile on her face, meeting her eyes and all.

***

Delphini arrived around lunchtime, without her husband, just as Isabella had predicted. By that point, you had spent some more time with both the former duchess and her son, before the former requested some alone time to which you obliged. That was when Mattheo gave you a tour of the grounds, occasionally giving a brief childhood story that took place in the various locations. You felt ever so slightly closer to him after each one.

It wasn't until dinner did you speak with Isabella again, and it was at the main dining table, with her having had a significant amount of aide to get down there.

"The novel is quite marvellous, Y/N," she said, "I couldn't put it down! I'm not finished yet, though, so no spoilers."

"What are you reading?" Delphini asked.

"Y/N's novel."

Mattheo looked up at you with widened eyes from across the table, and you couldn't help but smile when you said, "I know I promised you the first read, Mattheo, but I figured your mother was more deserving at this time."

"I better at least be the second," he said with a roll of his eyes, but it was clear his anger wasn't genuine.

Delphini and Isabella looked between the both of you with a glint of something in their eyes that you couldn't quite place.

***

When you awoke the next morning, the sunbeams of dawn were peeking through the cracks in the curtain, and placing a golden-pink glow on to the pillows. You stretched, and turned to your side to see one sunbeam landing perfectly across Mattheo's unconscious and worry-free face. In a moment of self-indulgence, you allowed yourself to admire your husband's features: his soft brown curls, his strong jaw, and his plump pink lips. He was such a handsome man that you couldn't help but feel childish butterflies swimming in your stomach.

Because he was yours.

It was then that you felt the need to touch him, to hold him close, to be in his arms - a craving that ran as deep as your bones. Your mind was too sleepy to have regained your usual second-guessing thought process, and the moment felt surreal, so you began shifting closer to Mattheo's half of the bed. The first body parts of yours to touch were your arms - gentle, at first, so as not to wake him. Then your leg touched his, but it wasn't as gentle as the arm, as you hadn't been looking at where his leg was. Thus, it was more of a knock; far from a painful one, of course, but enough to stir him in his slumber.

He felt your presence before he opened his eyes, but when he did he was greeted by your widened eyes staring up at him in fear of being caught red-handed. Fazed wasn't how you would describe him, no, he looked as if he had expected you to be so close to him, at least to some extent.

You hadn't realised he had moved his hand until it was softly caressing your cheek, and you snapped out of your nervous daze when he mumbled the word, "Cute."

You stilled once you had deciphered his mumbles, which Mattheo felt thanks to your body contact.

"Darling," he murmured, "Don't be so shy."

"Sorry," you eventually forced out.

At that, he opened his eyes wider, in contrast to the mere slits of vision from before, and pulled you properly into his arms. "You have nothing to apologise for."

You hummed into his chest.

"When we return home, I would like it if you were to move into my chamber."

Your heart swelled.

***

Isabella, thank the heavens, recovered fully from her injury without infection, and was back on her feet after a few weeks. You and Mattheo returned home after three weeks in the countryside, when you were sure that she was in good health once more. The former duchess had complimented your novel tremendously, and passed it on to her son for him to read, who then passed it on to his sister. By the time you all left, every family member staying with Isabella had read the book, and they had all graced you with praise.

You sent it to a publisher, avoiding the use of your full first name by dropping it to just its initial, so as to not be rejected for being a woman. It was accepted, and while you never met the publisher in person, by the time the day of a month after its first release arrived, many of the higher class of society had read it. You suspected that both your husband and sister-in-law's influence had something to do with its popularity.

It was on that same month milestone that you were hosting your first ever reading, with much more guests in attendance than you had anticipated. It would be your first time revealing that you - a woman - were the author of the book. People had most likely assumed it was your husband, or perhaps a secretive brother of his, that had wrote it, due to the last name Riddle having been the one that you used. While you had always been annoyed that women were expected to change their last names, you were actually rather pleased with the change of your own. You now held the last name of a family that actually cared for you.

That thought alone made whatever consequences of revealing your identity you would have to deal with less daunting to think about. You would have a support system to help you through them.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Mattheo announced from the podium set up in the ballroom specifically for the occasion. The alarming number of titleholders in the room went quiet and looked in his direction. "Thank you all for coming on this momentous day for our family name."

You were stood in between Isabella and Delphini by the edge of the room, both of whom were only visiting for the event, in order to support you. Their presence almost had you completely forgetting that your parents were nowhere in sight, despite having received an exclusive invitation. Although, you could spot a couple of your sisters within the crowds of people.

"I am sure that many of you will be wondering which member of my family it is that wrote such a beautiful piece," your husband continued, smiling with pride as he spoke - a contrast from his usually arrogant stance, "And I truly wish that I could take credit for it - but it makes me just as happy to be able to say that the author is the love of my life. So, without further ado, may I introduce to the podium my dear wife, her grace, Duchess Y/N Riddle of Slytherin."

Gasps rippled throughout the audience, and you gripped Delphini's hand tightly as you prepared yourself for the attention.

"Go on," Isabella whispered in your ear, "They will love you, I'm sure."

You nodded, and let go of your sister-in-law's hand, before beginning the walk to where your husband stood proudly. When you reached him, he placed a kiss on your lips, and then said loud enough only for you to hear, "I love you, my darling."

He hadn't said it before, and you hadn't said it since you let it slip the first time. It was only now you registered that he had described you as the love of his life only moments earlier - to an entire room of people, no less. You bit your lip as you felt your nerves reduce, and replied, "I love you too. Thank you, for all of this."

He smiled, "Of course." And then moved away from the podium, allowing you to gaze upon the audience of aghast faces alone.

"Well," you began, "This is evidently a surprise to you all..."

————————————————

masterlist

written; 11/08/2022 —> 20/08/2022 published; 22/08/2022 edited; 25/08/2023

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x reader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo x you #riddle #voldemort #lord voldemort #bridgerton au #delphini #harry potter #harry potter oneshot #harry potter oneshots #hp oneshot #hp oneshots #hp

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mastermindmiko · 7 months

Note

Hi! Hope you're well! I was hoping you could make a Matteo Riddle ×Fem!reader? Something with some angst but it's completely up to you!

Secret

Pairing: Matteo Riddle + Reader

Word count: 1023

Summary: You and Matteo keep your relationship a secret

Warnings: swearing and mentions of bullying.

Hey! If you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist.

Thank you sm for requesting! Hope you like it

"Hush, someone could hear us and then come see us, and that is bad." I scold him, but he just continues to look at me with a fond smile on his lips. Even after dating him for so long, the action still brings butterflies into my stomach.

I blush, then look away. I hear him chuckle before feeling his long fingers grab my chin and make me look at him. He presses a sweet kiss to my lips, and then mumbles, "I really don't care if someone sees us."

"Well, I do." I reply, barely thinking with the way he's kissing me. He hums, "I guess then it matters to me."

It's things like this that make me believe that matteo is not in any way like his father, despite what I initially thought and everyone else believed.

I begrudgingly part away from him, and say, "I have to go."

"No..." He groans and holds my waist tighter. He pulls me close to his chest, but I resist by pushing against it. I try, "I'll see you tonight. I have to get to lunch, or else Harry will be suspicious."

"Fine."

I head to lunch and matteo, and I part ways. It always hurt knowing that I couldn't share my relationship with my closest friends. However, it was for the best.

"Where were you?" Hermione says as soon as I'm close enough to the Gryffindor table. Harry and Ron pipe up to look at me like meerkats, both giving me a smile. I smile back and sit beside Hermione.

I don't get a chance to answer because Harry starts nearly growling when he sees Malfoy and his goons approaching, and with them, my boyfriend.

I resist smiling and start to pile up some food on my plate, staring at the table instead of at my gorgeous man. My eyes betray me as they try to sneak a glance of him to find him already looking at me. He shoots me a quick wink, which turns me into a tomato.

Malfoy sneers, "Ready to lose, Potter?"

"In your dreams, Malfoy." Harry counters, and Malfoy turns to Ron, deciding against saying that he's poor again. His gaze moves to hermione, deciding that the mud blood insult has gotten old, and then it lands on me.

"It wouldn't be hard losing with such a chit chaser -" Malfoy starts, but matteo clears his threat, and all of a sudden, Malfoy shuts up, returning to insulting Ron and Hermione instead.

That was weird. Unless...I was going to kill Matteo. I frown, shot him a glare, and he frowns, too. Malfoy eventually gets tired of teasing us, and he leaves.

We all return to lunch like normal, but I can tell that Harry was feeling anxious about tomorrow's match. I reassure him, "Don't worry, little brother. We're going to beat their asses."

Harry grins, but it then drops after Ron decides to say, "It was weird... the way Malfoy didn't keep insulting you."

"Maybe he has a crush." Hermione teases, and I feel myself get disgusted by the thought of it. I gag, and my friends laugh. Ron decides it's funny enough to keep going, "If anyone had a crush on her, it's Riddle, notice how he never aims any bludgers at her."

My eyes go wide, but I let out a nervous chuckle in order to hide my nervousness. I told matteo that that would raise suspicions. A few months ago, I even told him to hit me specifically, but of course, he refused.

The subject gets dropped, though, after a couple of laughs. I continued on with eating until I saw Matteo leave the Great Hall, messing up his hair. It was our signal. I stand up abruptly and then say, "I'll be back."

I rush out of the Great Hall and head to where I already know Matteo is heading. The room of requirement where we meet when we want to spend extended durations of time together.

I enter the room, and Matteo has his back to me. He's sorting through some books probably picking which one we're going to read together tonight. I shout, "Matteo fucking Riddle!"

He stills, his whole body turning rigid, slowly turning to face me. I fold my arms in front of my chest and glare at him. He grins anxiously and says, "Sweetheart?"

"Don't sweetheart me! You told your friends about us." I say, and his face turns guilty, so it was true. He takes a few steps close to me and explains, "This way they can stop bullying you."

"Them not bullying me has caused my friends to be suspicious." I say with anger. He frowns deeply and takes a few more steps closer to me until he can take my hands in his. I don't resist the action his hands are really soft.

He whispers, "Would it be so bad if they knew?"

"Yes, we wouldn't be able to be together then." I say, and feeling the anger drift away and the sadness seep in. Matteo sighs, "Maybe they would understand."

"They won't. You don't know what they say about when you're not there. It breaks my heart, but I can't lose them -" I say and cut myself off at the end. He sighs, "If they really love you, they would understand."

"I don't want to risk losing them-or you." I say, then meet his eyes to continue, "The thought of losing you scares me."

"And it terrifies me, but we can't go on like this-"

"I promise I'll tell them, I don't know when, but I will." I say, every time he brings this up, I feel like it's the end, every time I hope that it isn't.

"That's enough for me." Matteo says slowly. He gives me a small smile and then presses a quick kiss to my lips. He pulls me in for a hug, and I hug him as tightly as I can without suffocating him.

He parts then presses a kiss to my forehead. I really love him, but I'll tell him that another day. He says, "Let's go read a book, huh?"

a/n: I really don't know a lot about Matteo, but from what I know, this is how I imagine him being. I hope I did him justice.

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tessimagines · 1 year

Text

The Days That Follow // Remus Lupin

Summary:

“There was a before you and there was a during you. For some reason, I never thought there would be an after you.”

They say that grief has five stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Over the course of a year after her husband’s death, (Y/N) Lupin goes through all of them.

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Warnings: A WHOLE TON OF ANGST, character death, grief, mourning and depression

Word Count: 3.8k

Masterlist | Harry Potter Masterlist

A/N: For my first imagine after coming back to writing I thought I would brake all of your hearts. Enjoy (if you can?)

Denial

May 2nd, 1998

It’s his pale, lifeless hand spread out on the cobblestone that your eyes fixate on. Not his face, not his hair, not his body. They stare at the hand that had run it’s fingers through your hair only a few hours ago. The thumb that had brushed along your jawline after your final kiss. The palm you had squeezed before the battle had separated you.

It looks cold. Dust coats it, and you can see black grime underneath each fingernail. Small patches of blood litter their way across the skin. That skin used to have colour, but now it appears to have been bleached free of it.

For the first time you feel the sharp pain of the air that is caught in your throat. It is muffling any sound right now, but you know as soon as you let it out you wont be able to help but scream.

It is almost as if time has slowed down around you. You cannot make out any sounds, just a constant hum of noise. The Great Hall is full of bodies, lined up one after another. Each one has its own group of mourners, but you don’t see them. Your eyes only see your husbands hand on the floor.

Suddenly, your knees are on the ground beside him. You reach out and grab the hand in front of you. Your fingertips glide along his skin, searching for any point of warmth, of life.

This isn’t real. It’s another nightmare, brought forth by the anxiety of war. Every second you spend holding his hand, the blurrier your vision gets. But tears would mean that this is real, not some cruel mind game you know it has to be.

“No,” you say. Your voice is hoarse and strained. “No, he isn’t dead. He can’t be.”

Nobody says a word. For the first time, you let your eyes stray from his hand. They flicker to his face. It’s just as pale, just as lifeless as his hand. His eyes are open and glassy, staring up towards the ceiling of the Great Hall.

“No,” you say the word again. It seems to be the only word you can say or think. “No, no, no.”

You drop his hand to the floor and reach towards his chest, your fingers griping the edge of his ragged blazer. Dust and soot has sunk deep into the fabric and new holes line it’s surface. Underneath he wears his green knit sweater. That had been a Christmas present from Molly. It was brown from the dust and the dirt now, and when you touched it, the particles came to line your hands.

You grip onto the clothes of his chest. You’re shaking them now, like the action will wake him. All he needs is to take one breath, one deep breath and it will be okay.

You can feel his name in your mouth. You’re repeating it over and over again, every time louder. As your voice grows, so does the violence with which you shake his body. Your cheeks are wet, there is no point holding back the tears now.

“(Y/N),” Hermione is saying behind you. She places her hands on your shoulders, trying to pull you back from your husband’s body. “(Y/N), please, he’s gone.”

You’re back to saying no again. It’s seems like the only rational thing you can say. “No, no, no, he’s not. He’s going to be fine. He has to be.”

You wiggle your way out of Hermione’s grip but now Kingsley Shacklebolt has his arms around you. He pulls you away from Remus, whispering in your ear. “(Y/N), look at him. He’s gone.”

You stop struggling and lean your head against Kingsley’s broad chest. Your breaths are sharp and jagged. You hand grips onto Kingsley’s forearm.

He’s right. Your eyes search your husband’s face. While it looks like him, with the same features you had grown so used to, there was something missing. No light, warmth or emotion.

Remus Lupin is dead.

Anger

May 13th, 1998

The glass vase hits the floor with a crash, shards splintering off and dispersing across the wooden floor. You can feel a few sharp tickles of tiny glass pieces falling on the tops of your bear feet. Water is now trickling amongst the shards of broken glass.

You look down at the mess below you, your eyes focusing on the half-dried pink peonies that are scattered through it. They were a present from Arthur. Perhaps, he had thought the beauty of them would make you feel just a little bit better. Or maybe, he thought the gesture of giving them to you would be a reassurance that he was there for you. But really, all you could take note of was the look of pity sewn into his features as he held them out to you.

You pushed all of the air out of your lungs in a single, loud huff. The pain of being alone, of not seeing him, of not being able to talk to him was suffocating. Day-to-day life had become more than just a struggle. Little things that you would normally pay no attention to had become some of the biggest annoyances.

It feels as though there is a constant scream sitting in your throat. Your chest is constantly heavy, your face is constantly hot and flushed. Your nerves are continuously active, feeling every little thing that brushes by your skin. Your own body has become a constant source of it’s own antagonism.

The idea of him not being here with you is unbearable. The idea of never looking at his face, never feeling your hands on his chest, never hearing words come out of his mouth again causes not just an emotional pain, but a physical one. It feels like every fibre in your body is being pulled apart by that swelling anger.

You feel tempted to reach across and press one of your feet down on some of the sharp shards of glass. Perhaps that would provide a release for the boiling emotions coursing through your body every moment. Blood and anger will seep out in a red, burning mix.

Teddy stirs in the next room. The loud crash of the vase has woken him up. What starts as soft mumbles of discomfort turns into piercing loud screams that echo around the otherwise silent house. You place a hand to your face for a moment, close your eyes and try to quell that rising anger in your stomach.

You walk towards the door, cursing whatever or whoever caused you to be doing this on your own.

Bargaining

April 25th, 1998

“Oh, it’s chilly out here.” Molly wraps her cardigan closer around herself as you watch her sit down beside you. “You should be wearing a coat if you’re going to sit outside.”

You offer her a half-smile and turn your gaze back to the rolling hills outside The Burrow. It’s night but the moon is bright, so you can still see the silhouette of each of them. Hundreds upon hundreds of stars litter the sky above you.

Molly places a hand on your shoulder before wrapping it around your upper arm. “You’re doing so well, dear. We’re all so proud of you.” She leans her face in closer as she says it, the tip of her nose just touching your ear.

You open your mouth to say something, but no words seem to take form. Instead, you reach your other hand up to place it over hers. You swallow sharply, stifling what you can of an inevitable cry.

“Oh, here, here,” Molly puts an arm around you, pulling you towards her. She presses your head down on her chest and coos like a mother comforting an upset toddler.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper the apology through the material of Molly’s cardigan.

“Don’t you dare apologise. I’m serious. You are doing so well, okay?” You nod against her chest.

“I could have done something, you know. If I was with him during the battle, I could have stopped it. Whoever it was, I could have stopped them. He would still be here.” Molly shakes her head, reaching up to place her hand on the side of your face.

“No, no, don’t start that. You could not have done anything, (Y/N).” She holds you tight against herself. The woman is maternal instinct personified.

“I could have. I could have begged him to stay home with Teddy and I. Teddy would have a father, instead of just me.” Your voice breaks at the last bit. If you had begged him hard enough, Teddy would still have a parent he deserves. He would grow up in a happy household, instead of one that is haunted by a ghost.

“That never would have happened, (Y/N), you know that.” Her voice is strong, trying her best to reassure your racing mind. “Remus died fighting for a cause he believed. He fought to make a world he was happy for Teddy to grow up in. You couldn’t have stopped him, my dear. Just like no one could have stopped you.”

You cry against her, your breaths loud and ragged. She continues to hold you through it, her hand stroking the side of your arm.

Depression

August 12th, 1998

For a second, your brain can’t register the sound coming from the neighbouring room. Your arms reach out into the empty space in the bed beside you, almost like you can push the sound away. After a few more seconds, you recognise the cry of a baby, his screams growing louder and sharper.

You roll over onto your back, raising your hands to rub your eyes back to life. The room is dark and dim, only a sliver of moonlight coming in through a crack in the blinds. It barely lights up the room and you can only see the outline of the door across from your bed.

Teddy continues to scream. You hear the wails ripple through his throat, coming out in a disorganised mess of sound. It echoes throughout the house, into your room and lodges in your ear cannel.

Please, please stop, you think. Just for a single second, please stop.

His cries are relentless. They’re like an endless knock at the door. They want something from you, something you don’t have the energy to provide. The corner of your eyes become wet and you stifle your own, small cry.

A shuffle goes past your door and a little head pokes itself through the crack. You see the red of Molly Weasley’s hair. She had planted herself in the small guest room the last few weeks, trying her best to manage and organise the mess of your life right now while feeling her own relentless grief.

“I’ll get him, dear.” As quickly as she had appeared, she scuttles off again. After a few more seconds, you begin to hear the whisper of her voice and little shushes of comfort. “It’s okay, little one. You’re okay.”

Teddy’s cries begin to settle, and soon enough the house becomes still.

He deserves more, he needs more. What kind of mother can leave her own child to scream like that? What kind of mother has to rely on another woman to comfort her child?

You close your eyes in anticipation of a sleep you know will never come.

September 30th, 1998

The record plays loud and clear, the fast pop song lightening up the living room around you. You have the blinds pulled wide open, bright autumn daylight streaming in through the windows. You bounce your head along to the music, taping your feet together to the beat.

You hold the duster in your hand, brushing it across the old lamp you have beside the couch. You look down at little Teddy in his rocker. He is smiling up at you with his wide gummy grin, watching as you sway to the song enveloping the two of you. You smile back down at him, reaching out and touching one finger briefly to his nose. He giggles, beaming up at you.

“Oh, you’re happy today.” His continuous giggles seem to sound out the blearing music. “Me too, bubs. Me too.”

You continue to dance for him, swinging your arms around ridiculously. It’s almost like his eyes are glistening up at you, pure happiness coming from them.

You turn and begin to dust the mantle of the fireplace, past a vase with fresh daisies. You then see the face-down photo frames resting on the brown mahogany mantle. There is about five of them, all in a row. The hand holding the duster falls down beside your body and you drop it on the floor.

You reach and pick up one of the them, turning the picture to face you. Its a photograph from your wedding day. You’re arm-in-arm with Remus. He is wearing the nicest suit that he owned and you are in your mother’s old satin wedding gown. You can see the little white flower pins you wore in your hair that day glistening in the sun outside the small and modest chapel.

You watch as you look up at Remus beside you, your smile wide and bright. He is beaming down at you as the two of you soak each other up. In the last frame of the captured moment, Remus turns towards the lens. The expression on his face is soft and golden and warm.

You cannot hear the music anymore, or Teddy’s soft giggles. You cannot hold the picture frame or bear to look at the image it contains. You place it back, face down, on the dusty mantlepiece once again.

December 25th, 1998

The cramped living room of the Burrow is buzzing with a warm, cozy energy. It’s not its usual barrage of festive noise but a slow gentle hum, half-smiles on the faces that fill the room. Everyone is trying their best to be happy, trying to make the best of the Christmas holiday. Despite the Christmas food, music and decorations, the absence of Fred and Remus still hangs in the air like an unusual smell.

Teddy sits on your lap, bouncing up and down. His blissful unawareness is the envy of everyone in the room. As he bounces, he begins to babble. Arthur sits on the ground beside him. As Teddy makes nonsensical sounds, Arthur responds with a fake confident understanding.

“Oh, is that right, Teddy? I never would have known!” You laugh and watch as Arthur holds a finger out to your son. He grasps onto it, clenching his fist around it with all of his nine-month-mite.

“Oh, (Y/N),” Molly says. “We have something little for Teddy.” She pulls a little parcel wrapped in brown paper from beside her and passes it towards you.

“Oh, Molly, you didn’t need to do that.” You smile up at her. Her red hair has noticeably more greys then last Christmas. She tries her best to smile warmly, but you can see there is a layer of sadness there.

“Nonsense, of course we did.” You take the present from her hands and place it in Teddy’s lap. You pull the brown parchment apart and smile as Teddy tries his best to help you. He grasps a piece of it in his hand, shaking it around for everyone to see. A chuckle travels around the room.

Inside is a tiny little blue tie and a grey button down shirt, one size too big for the nine-month-old in your lap.

A crooked smile makes its way on Ron’s lips. “Add a rugged little tweed blazer and he’ll be the spitting image of Rem-”

Hermione elbows him in the stomach, cutting off the rest of his sentence. You look up at him, just in time to catch the confused look he gives her. She just shakes her head, “I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s okay. You’re right, Ron.” You try your best to curve your lips into a smile. “We’ll need to get a matching jacket so you can look just like your daddy, huh Teddy?”

You look up at Ron again and offer what you can of a reassuring look. The room has suddenly become quiet except for the constant sound of Teddy’s babbling.

You turn your gaze to Arthur beside you. “Do you mind looking after Teddy for a moment while I go to the bathroom?” He nods and you pass Teddy over to him, watching as he takes his place on the older man’s lap. You slip past the group and up the stairs, heading towards one of the empty bathrooms in the burrow.

The pain builds slowly. Every step you take up the stairs feels heavier, like you have to push your way up. You only just make it to the bathroom and close the door before you give into the weight.

The sobs come in spasms, the air punching its way out of your chest. Every time you think of Remus, this seems to be the outcome. A single thought of him is enough to send you down a spiral of relentless grief. There are no happy memories anymore, only a longing for one more conversation, one more embrace, one more kiss that will never come.

There is a soft knock at the door. You don’t turn your head. You don’t want them to see you like this, eyes red raw and swollen.

Ginny whispers your name, soft and low. You hear her close the door behind her and she makes her way to sit down on the ground beside you. No eyes connect, but you feel her hand slip down, beside your arm, until it clasps onto your own hand. Her thumb gently brushes back and forth upon the skin of your hand, a slow and comforting motion.

You rest your head on her shoulder as she brings her other arm to come around your body. You feel her press her lips against the hair on your head, trying her best to sooth the cries that still flow out of you. “I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

You shake your head dismissively. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not fair what happened. You don’t deserve this.”

You remain silent for a moment, letting her continue to comfort you with affectionate touches. You grasp her hand a little tighter when you speak again. “I’m not the first widow in the world.”

She just kisses you on the head again, pulling you in closer to her. It’s a reassuring feeling. You feel your own cries slow and the clamp around your throat loosen.

“I don’t want people to whisper his name around me. I don’t want him to be a half-spoken memory. I want to be able to remember him. I want to remember his face, his voice, his life without wanting to crawl into that grave with him.”

You look up at her for the first time since she entered the room. Her expression is soft and tender. Your eyes are still wet, tears dangling on the edge. Ginny raises a hand up and rubs them away, placing another gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I just miss my husband.”

Acceptance

May 2nd, 1999

Teddy’s chubby little fist grasps onto your fingers tightly as he dawdles over towards the memorial. His feet stomp on the ground, one after the other, happy to be out and about for the day. He giggles as he goes along, pulling you behind him.

The memorial is long and vast, running the length of an entire wall. Engraved on it’s rough steel surface are the names of those who fell in both the First and Second Wizarding War. The sheer number is overwhelming. As the wall continues on, a separate list gathers at the end. Listed below The Battle of Hogwarts, is a series of 50 or so names.

Today, a group gathers around them. Many of them are familiar, friends or family of the people you had fought beside one year ago today. There is a quiet hush around them all. Teddy’s little giggles cut through them with ease. In his other hand he holds some small dandelions he picked himself. They bounce in his hand with every step he takes.

As you get closer, you reach down and pick your son up, resting him on your hip. He continues to babble as you reach the wall, the names now visible. You scan them up and down until your eyes rest on the name of your husband engraved amongst them. Under his name are a few sentences that try their best to sum up his 38 years of life.

Remus J. Lupin (1960-1998)

Original member of the Order of the Phoenix and former Defence Against the Arts Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Died defending the castle during the Battle of Hogwarts. Survived by his wife (Y/N) and son Edward.

The sentences are simple and blunt for necessity. It feels like an awful generalisation. No person reading this, who didn’t know him in life, would understand the man that Remus Lupin was. A man filled with complexities, so intelligent and kind and pure. No one would know the sound of his laugh or the way he would roll his eyes every time you told a stupid joke. No one would be able to picture the look on his face when he held his son for the first time, or the way he had played with the faint wisps of hair on Teddy’s head.

No. All those moments were just memories you had to hold onto now. Despite the fact that Teddy would never meet his father, never understand what it was like to be in his presence, you were going to make sure that he knew him. Teddy was going to know the man who had given his life to make the world a better place for him to live.

Teddy giggles and reaches his arm out in an uncoordinated jerk. His little fingers land on the engraved name of his father. You smile and press a faint kiss to his head.

The pain will always be there. You understand that now. You will carry it, always, like an open wound that never fully heals. But that is the way it should be. The pain is only there because of how much you had loved Remus in life, and how much you love him still in death. Inside that pain is every kiss you ever shared, every moment in bed beside him, every little dance you did with his hand in yours.

In this way, Remus Lupin will never truly die.

Let me know what you thought! Requests are open for drabbles and headcannons :)

#harry potter imagines #harry potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagines #marauders imagines #marauders x reader #remus lupin #harry potter #marauders #harry potter oneshots #remus lupin oneshots #tessimagines

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obriens-world · 8 months

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Hello!

My name is Phoebe and I am new to writing on tumblr! I have been writing for years now and have even wrote a fanfiction on wattpad (mygbeebs) Currently, I'm planning my novel but in the mean time I want to express my love for certain characters to people who also feel the same way! I would love for people to send in requests of what they want to read as long as it is something I am comfortable writing.

I DO NOT WRITE SMUT!!

I ONLY WRITE X READER FICS

At the moment, I will only be writing for a couple fandoms but if I become more popular I will be willing to introduce more:

The Maze Runner (Books and movies):

-Thomas, Minho, Frypan, Gally

Harry Potter (movies only):

-Harry, Ron, Draco, Mattheo, Theo Nott, Tom Riddle

Marauders:

-Sirius, Remus, Regulus, James

Hogwarts Legacy:

-Sebastian Sallow, Ominis Gaunt, Garreth Weasley, (potentially a male oc in the future but I haven't made one yet!)

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mushrubes · 1 year

Text

Ends now

Masterlist| Harry Potter masterlist |

Requested : no

prompt 113. “Our relationship ends now.”

Pairing : Remus Lupin x (they/them) reader

Type : Angst

Word count : 297

have a great day/night!! <3

------------------------------------

“Y/n, listen to me, he didn’t do it!” Remus pleaded as Y/n read the words over and over again. “I know him!” Remus defended, Y/n shaking their head at him and placing the newspaper down. “So, who is it then Remus?” Y/n argued, not knowing who else could possibly be responsible. “He was there during the day on the night they were killed!” they shouted, Remus biting his tongue. He completely understood them, knowing he felt the exact same when he had found out. Sirius had recently been at Hogwarts, so he had the chance to talk to him after he had exposed Peter. However, he had underestimated how hard it would be to tell Y/n, knowing there was ‘evidence’ for Sirius but there was nothing towards Peter.

He tried not saying a word, knowing that if they knew he had spoken to Sirius, they wouldn’t be happy with him. “Because I’ve spoken to him!” he burst out, his heart dropping as he saw the disbelief on Y/n’s face. “No, no, no, you’re lying. There’s no way.” Y/n denied, refusing to believe him. They looked for a glimmer in his eyes, a signal that he was lying but there was nothing. He wasn’t doing anything like rocking on his heels which he did unconsciously when lied and his voice didn’t raise to a higher pitch. “Please tell me you’re lying.” they whispered, Remus frowning and looking at the ground. “Remus?” they whispered, seeing him unable to meet their eyes. “I’m sorry...” He mumbled, Y/n’s eyes misting and tears starting to fall. “Our relationship ends now, Remus.” they declared, Remus now crying as well as he tried to step forward. “Y/n, please, don’t do this.” he asked, his heart breaking as he saw them looking broken.

“Get out.”

#remus #Remus Lupin #remus lupin imagines #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x male reader #remus angst #remus lupin angst #remus fluff #Harry Potter #harry potter masterlist #harry potter imagines #harry potter oneshots

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strxwberrymoonstar · 28 days

Note

heyy i love your blog the fics are so cute!!! i wanted to kindly ask you if you could do a fic with neville? i love the way you portray him in your stories. usually others just write him off as sme shy weak boy but you portray him in such a special way, like yes he is shy but theres more to him than just loving plants and being inroverted, and i respect you so much for it. i was wonderng if you could do a big headcanon or fic centering around neville having a crush on the reader or him being the reader's boyfriend? i just miss him sm :(

Holy shit thank you so much!! I’ll try to make one about him being the reader’s boyfriend and them getting ready for classes!

this was so overdue and it sucks im so sorry, but i want to post it now and i’ll come back to it a in bit to update it <3

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Neville X reader - a sunny morning

The sharp sun ray’s sneak through the castle’s curtains as you lift the blanket up and over your head.

A yawn surpasses your lips as you lift your hand up to block the sun that reveals itself. Your eyes blink slowly, trying to get the sleep out of them as you move to sit up.

You lift the blanket off of your head and throw it away from your body. Lifting yourself off your bed while another yawn sneaks pass as you walk to the end of your bed, where your clothes lie.

Your warm pyjamas shimmy off of your skin as you put on your Hogwarts attire. You check yourself out in the mirror once last time before heading out the door.

The soft chatter fills the Gryffindor’s home room, people scattered all over the free chairs and sofas while some are studying at the tables over by the windows.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” a warm hand touches your tricep lovingly, giving it a soft squeeze. A warmth fills your body as you subconsciously lean towards him, his arms coming to rest around your shoulders as you lean backwards onto his chest. He places his chin on top of your head. “How did you sleep?” he asks, the breath of his words moving your hair slightly.

“It was good, missed you though,” You say, a sigh following your sentence. He squeezes your shoulders a bit tighter, a comforting reminder that he’s there. “That’s okay sweets, i’m here now,” Neville says, leaning down beside your head to place a quick peck onto your cheek.

#neville longbottom #neville longbotton x reader #harry potter oneshots #harry potter headcanon #harry potter imagines #harry potter dabbles #neville longbottom drabbles

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fruitymajor · 1 year

Text

Hello!

So... I'm kind of embarrassed that THIS is my first official Tumblr post but whatever.

I've been on a Harry Potter streak reading fanfictions and just watched a reel that made me imagine a scenario for a oneshot and I need it to exist somewhere besides my head.

I don't know if this is already a thing, and if it is could I possibly get a link to it..👀

Imagine: The reader buying/being gifted an enchanted ~toy~ where when they use it another person feels what 'it' feels. Like one of the characters is dating the reader, when one of their friends gifts her a box. On it, is has engraved drawings of the male and female sex parts.

Reader is shocked and blushing at the gift, asking why she would need this. Her friend is quick to point out her complaining she doesn't see her partner enough since they've been busy the past couple weeks, not giving them a chance for quality time together.

It's a few days later, the box is semi-forgotten about. Reader and their partner are cuddling in one of their rooms. They talk, laugh, flirt; Next thing you know they're getting frisky. Whispering how they've missed each other, how they longed to touch one another.

Reader is about to start grasping at their clothes when they get interrupted by their partner's friend, leaving both of them exasperated. They tell her they've gotta go, but promise to make it up to her when they get the chance.

Leaving the room with the Reader frustrated and worked up, she decides to take matters into her own hands and tries to relieve some of her needs on her own.

After almost half an hour, she realizes she's too worked up and needs something more..something besides her hands. But the person with that something more isn't here.

Her mind wanders a bit, remembering the gift from her friend. She starts looking around the room, eventually finding it hiding under the bed.

She finally opens the box, a bit curious to find out what's inside. When she does, all she sees is a cube made of the material used for what she was thinking was in the box.

She takes the item out, noticing a bit of writing on the inside of the box. Confused she reads the vauge chant aloud, thinking nothing happened.

As she looks at it disappointingly, she begins to picture her partner. The way they feel, look, and picture their member in detail.

As she thinks of reaching to put it back in the box, it starts to move, morphing and shaping itself differently. She's scared as fuck when it happens, but after it's done transforming sees that it looks...like their partner's sex member!?

Everything in the past few moments replays in their mind, coming to the conclusion the chant allows the material to change into whatever they pictured.

A little weird but, she doesn't feel like questioning the magical item, as her mind is slowly being consumed by her lustful thoughts.

As she starts to touch it, she notices it has a bit of warmth, and movement. She continues, seeing it reacting and becoming a bit stiff.

Meanwhile, a Pov to their partner surrounded by some of their classmates and still a bit salty they aren't with you right now. They are oblivious of the slight tingle they feel when all of a sudden are feeling force on their crotch.

They get red in the face, not knowing what was happening. Trying their best to not make faces while struggling to pay attention.

As they start to grow more aroused, they quickly decide to excuse themselves and run to the nearest closet to hide.

Back to the Reader, she finally managed to get it to stand proud and didn't waste any time, placing it gently between her folds. She was surprised at how it felt, the subtle movements it gave as she thrusted it inside her.

It didn't take long for her to start feeling that pleasurable knot start to form. And as she grew closer to her release she could have sworn she felt it twitch when reaching her high.

Laying back and taking shaky breaths, she relaxed into the bed. Not failing to notice the object transforming back to its original form.

Yeahh.. she has a few questions for her friend.

After a few moments, she started cleaning up when she heard footsteps coming towards her door.

She looked up and saw her disheveled partner, messy hair, slightly flushed face and heavy breathing. About to ask what happened, she didn't take long to realize they might have been affected by her little trinket.

So yeah, that's the idea. If anyone is willing to keep it in mind and want to flesh it out in the future as their own, please be my guest(but tag me, i wanna read!). It can be any character, the reader could be the male and have a female partner or any which way. If you're wondering about the rules on how the object works, I'm thinking that the person experiencing its effects has to be okay with the one who's doing sexual acts to it, such as their partner. So it's not super non-con or unwillingness, just unexpected.

Thank you for your time, I appreciate you reading this desperate mess! 😩❤️

#harry potter fanfiction #Harry potter imagines #Harry potter x Reader #Harry potter oneshots #Harry potter #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x you #Ron Weasley x Reader #fred weasley x reader #Draco Malfoy x Reader #George Weasley x Reader #Hermione Granger x Reader #Harry potter smut

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atypicalamortentia · 5 months

Text

Disappear || Percy Weasley

Synopsis - Ron looses you on your trip to the Weasley house.

Warnings - NSFW.

Notes - Characters are 18+!

Word Count - 1.2k.

[Caffeinate Me]

Ron was beyond confused, not to mention worried. He ran into the bedroom where Harry and Hermione were sitting, reading their books, before pacing up and down with his hands in his messy ginger hair. “Shit, shit shit.”

Harry looked at Ron with a puzzled expression. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

Ron gulped, looking at his two friends with wide eyes. “I’ve lost Y/N.”

“What do you mean you’ve ‘lost Y/N’?” Hermione asked as she narrowed her eyes.

“Well,” Ron started, stroking the back of his neck with his hands. “She was outside with me, helping me put up the Christmas lights. I came inside to turn them on, you know, to see if they looked decent and when I went back she was gone!”

“Oh honestly Ronald, you had one job!” Hermione groaned, rolling her eyes.

“It’s not my fault!” Ron exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. “I didn’t think she’d give me the slip! So… Neither of you have seen her?”

Harry and Hermione shook their heads before Harry spoke up, “are you sure she isn’t with Fred and George? She’s quite close to them.”

Ron’s eyes widened as he nodded. “Good idea! I’ll ask them!”

Ron then bolted out of the room as fast as he could, leaving Harry and Hermione sitting there shaking their heads and laughing. When Ron reached the twins room, he didn’t even bother knocking. He slammed the door open, breathing heavily. Fred and George looked at their brother, confusion lacing their faces. “What is it?” They asked simultaneously.

“Have you seen Y/N?” Ron asked, but the twins just shook their heads.

“No. We haven’t. Wasn’t she supposed to be helping you put up the Christmas decorations outside?” Fred asked, looking at George with a grin on his face.

Ron nodded. “Yeah. But she gave me the slip. I was hoping she’d be with you!”

“Nope,” George replied. “You must have bored her half to death.”

“Ha ha very funny,” Ron said as he rolled his eyes. “I’ll ask Percy.”

“Haven’t seen him leave his room. Doubt he would have seen her,” Fred pointed out. “Have you checked the farm? Maybe she went to see the animals.”

“She has to be there,” Ron nodded. “She couldn’t have just disappeared.” And with that, he ran off to check the livestock peppered around the outside of the Weasley home.

Meanwhile you were in Percy’s room. You were hovering above him, hand over his mouth to quieten down the moans and whimpers that were threatening to leave his lips as you rode him. Your hips moved expertly against his, but cautiously, ready to jump off if anybody was to interrupt the two of you. You had been dating Percy in secret for a few months now, and would always disappear to his room when nobody was looking. “‘M gonna cum,” Percy whimpered against your hand, his hips thrusting up to meet yours in a chaotic rhythm.

“Shh pretty boy,” you whispered quietly and Percy nodded as tears sprung to his eyes. The pleasure you were giving him was too much to handle. His arms flew to your waist, keeping you doing the same movements over and over again as he pulled you flush against his bare chest. The sudden movement caused your hand to fall from his mouth, but Percy was quick to smash his lips against yours, kissing you desperately. You swallowed his moans as he finally came, his hips stuttering as thick ropes of white coated your insides. Your hips slowed down to a halt as your lips glided across his effortlessly.

“Merlin,” Percy whispered against your lips before pulling away and gazing into your eyes. You shifted your weight and rolled off of him, laying down on your back and breathing deeply as you stared at the ceiling. You found yourself giggling quietly as you heard Ron’s voice carry throughout the house.

“She’s not there!” Ron cried as he ran through the halls, opening all the doors but Percy’s and peering into the rooms.

“I should go and relieve your brother from the torture of trying to find me,” you say looking at Percy with a grin.

He pouted, pulling your body close to his and pressing a tender kiss on your temple. “Do you have to go?”

“Y/N! Y/N where are you?” Ron’s voice echoed.

You looked at Percy and nodded. “I’ll be back, you can count on it.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he smiled, watching as you stood up from the small bed and dressed yourself. “You’re so beautiful.”

You blushed at Percy’s words and straightened your hair, looking into the mirror to make sure you looked presentable. When you were satisfied with how you looked, you turned to Percy and grinned, bending down to kiss him on the lips softly. “I’ll see you later handsome,” you whispered against his lips.

“Not if I see you first,” he replied cheekily as you pulled away from his lips. You rolled your eyes playfully as you turned to leave Percy’s room. You checked both ways down the halls to make sure nobody was there, turning to give Percy one last smile before exiting his room. You quickly made your way to Harry and Hermione, trying to come up with an excuse as to where you had been in your head. When you entered the room, the two friends looked up at you with a smile on their faces.

“Y/N!” Hermione exclaimed, jumping up from her position and hugging you. “Where have you been?”

“I went to check on the chickens,” was all you could come up with. Harry raised an eyebrow at you, but didn’t say anything.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Ron asked, barrelling into the room with a grin on his face. “There you are! Bloody hell, I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

“She was with the chickens,” Harry said, a smile on his face. Ron looked slightly confused, but thankfully didn’t question you any further. Instead, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

“Fancy helping me with the rest of the decorations?” He grinned.

You nodded, excited that Christmas was just around the corner. “Of course!”

You followed Ron out of the room and down the hall, passing Percy on the way who was heading to the bathroom. He eyed you lovingly although his posture was stern. You didn’t know how much longer you’d be able to keep up your secret relationship, especially since you kept disappearing every time you went to the Weasley house to rendezvous with Percy. But for now, you were content. You sighed dreamily as you passed your lover in the hall, his hand skimming yours and quickly intertwining around your fingers before pulling away. A subtle gesture to let you know that he was thinking of you. Ron, who was completely oblivious to what had happened, continued walking to the loft to get more Christmas decorations down. You smiled at Percy before quickly following his younger brother, holding the ladder for him to climb up. When Ron finally re-emerged he was holding a container full of decorations, a wide grin on his face. “Here we are! I hope you’re not going to disappear again, we have a lot more to put up!”

You chuckled. “I’ll try my hardest not to.”

Ron narrowed his eyes, but quickly found the funny side of your joke, nodding along. “Well if you do, at least tell me where you’re going next time. I was worried!”

“I will do,” you said, knowing full well you would disappear again and not tell anyone where you were going. It was the norm now, and everyone just had to be okay with that.

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter one shots #harry potter one shot #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter oneshots #harry potter oneshot #percy weasley #percy weasley x reader #percy weasley imagine #percy weasley imagines #percy weasley one shot #percy weasley one shots #percy weasley oneshot #percy weasley oneshots #weasley #percy weasley x you

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fear-less · 1 month

Text

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 the last time

paring: james potter x reader x regulus black

warnings: angst, fluff?? maybe idk, ngl this is mostly james’ pov rarely shows regulus x reader scenes 🗣️❓, lowkey cringy, lowkey left on a cliff hangernot poly it’s james x reader then turns into reg x reader :3, use of y/n, lily is not cool in this sorry 😞😞 but love her, house doesn’t matter but it does mention that reader is not in gryffindor, there’s a couple of taylor references in this fic😜

a/n: here’s this bc i’m writing a request rn🙏🗣️

3.2k words ^_^

You had always thought James was your soulmate. You had shared so many happy memories, only dating for a year and a half but being friends longer. You never imagined a world without him.

But good things never last forever, especially when it’s something good happening to you. You never expected for James to break up with you, at least not for another girl he was slowly falling in love with, not for the girl he told you not to worry about.

“She’s just a friend,” you had recounted the amount of times he had told you those words. As much as he said them, he clearly never listened to them.

You had watched them get close together, everyone had known before you, Lily had his heart, but he had told you multiple times he loved you and only you. So why is he leaving you right now for her?

You could feel the flowers you two grew together dying of thirst.

Clearly, the feelings never died for her, as they were assigned to be partners in Transfiguration class for a project; you could see his change in attitude. He was slowly becoming distant.

But he clearly didn’t care anymore about your feelings as he flat out told you he was leaving you for Lily.

“Why?” you knew why. Everyone did.

“I just love her. I always knew she would be the one. I’m sorry.”

“If you knew she was ‘always the one,’ why did you get into a relationship with me? To play with the feelings?” you screamed, finally had enough of his crap.

That very day, you had walked out of the Gryffindor common room, would be the last.

You had cut all contact with James. Yes, you were friends with the other Marauders, but not close enough. You had ignored them anytime they would talk to you, only talking to them if it was important.

It had only been five days since your awful break up with James, five. Five days and he was already asking Lily out, and she had said yes.

You found out when you heard three girls gossiping in the library, you had run out the second you heard those words.

Were you that easy to get over?

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

‘I should be happy’ is what James keeps telling himself. He has the girl of his dreams laying on him right now! Why isn’t he smiling like a man in love? Why is he thinking about you?

He broke up with you because it was never going to be you. So why did he almost call Lily your name?

It had been a month since the breakup. In that month, he had celebrated his anniversary with Lily. They had been over the moon that day, thankful it was a Hogsmeade weekend. But that whole trip made him think of you. Especially when Lily got the same drink you always got.

He never realized how much he loved you. He misses your stupid jokes, your smile, the way you would always laugh at his jokes and pranks.

Lily would never be you, you would never be Lily. Ever. You would never make him feel bad for saying one silly joke. You would never discourage him from pulling a prank, as long as it didn’t hurt him. You would always drop what you were doing to be with him, Lily wouldn’t. He wasn’t used to that, wasn’t used to anything Lily was.

He was quickly lost in thought, not even listening to anything Lily was saying, until she slapped his hand, finally catching his attention back.

“What’s for you so deep in thought?” Lily said, her face holding a confused expression.

“Just about you, of course. Can’t wait to go more on these dates, till we are old and wrinkly.” James quickly said, not wanting to actually tell her what he was thinking.

Lily had smiled at that. Not knowing that those words were the words you would tell him almost every time you two were on dates. Making jokes about being together till you were old and wrinkly but so in love, still going on weekly dates.

James was stuck. Stuck in the past where he had you. He wishes more than anything to go back to that very same night and change things.

As stuck as James was, he told himself that he was just confused. He didn’t miss you, no! Maybe he was sick, so he’s thinking of you, yeah! That’s right, he doesn’t really care about you, he’s just sick.

He wishes to not be sick for long.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

It had now been seven months. Seven months and you had never been more happier than now. Around the sixth month, you had realized how much you had gotten over James. Not searching for him in the halls to not run into him, in the Great Hall, anywhere anymore.

You never noticed the little things you did that lead to you finally getting over James. But he did. He longed for the attention you gave him before entering a class you shared, before making a turn, before entering the Great Hall and walking past the Gryffindor table to get to your own houses table.

Seven months later, you were now clean, as you liked to say it. In that very month, you had been paired with Regulus Black for a project for Potions. The project was worth a lot and a very lengthy one at that. Making you and Regulus have to actually talk and not do the work silently and awkwardly.

That very same day, you two had agreed to meet in the library an hour and a half before supper.

That night had been one of the best you had in months. Laughter filling the side of the library you two were at, Madam Pince telling you two to shush over and over again.

What you didn’t know was the boy who you used to laugh that much with was starring at you, intensely. He was so confused, why were you laughing with Regulus Black? But why does he care, he only came to the library to accompany Lily. As the laughter once again filled the noiseless library, he got more mad.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

It had now been eight months. You had almost forgotten that James existed, some things would remind you of him here and there but your heart didn’t drop nor did it beat fast anymore over some small reference.

In those same eight months, you had also gotten closer to Regulus. It felt nice to be friends with him, though sometimes you wished it was more.

He understood you in many ways others couldn’t. In more ways James couldn’t. James was the opposite from you and Regulus was completely like you. Which is what made you two get along so quickly.

Now, you are walking with Regulus making your way to the Astronomy Tower. This spot had become your guys’ spot, coming here whenever. If you just wanted somewhere to hang out, if one was feeling sad, angry, or anything else. Although it was really only allowed to be entered during class, you two still found a way to enter without getting caught, it wasn’t that hard.

“How was your day today?” You had asked Regulus as you made your way to the railing.

“It was alright, History of Magic is always so boring, nearly fell asleep.” Regulus said, chuckling as he finished the end of sentence.

You had let out a giggle, smiling at Regulus then turning back to the view that the Astronomy Tower gave you of Hogwarts.

Regulus admired your features. He had always liked your eyes, the first thing he noticed. That same shade became his favorite color, he could get lost in your eyes for hours. His favorite second feature was your lips, a soft pink, he wishes he could kiss you.

Regulus pauses, why was he thinking about kissing you? He had known you before, but really getting to know you in a month, it’s been a month and he’s already head over heels. Great.

He knew about your past relationship with James, mostly everyone at Hogwarts did. He also knew that if he was James, he would’ve never left you. He would’ve married you, started a family with you.

“Are you okay? You’re totally spacing out on me, I was about to tell you about the cute animal I saw while walking in the Forbidden Forest!” Regulus always admired your love for animals, he loved the way you would ramble about them, going on and on about all the cute animals.

“I’m okay, don’t worry, I was just... thinking,” Regulus said, trying to get you to go back to talking about the animal you found.

“Alright…!”

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

It has now been nine months.

But the past two months have been heaven for you. Hanging out with Regulus has been the highlight of your days.

But something told you tonight was going to be different. It was a Hogsmeade weekend. Regulus invited you to go and hang out.

So now, here you were sitting across from him at Honeydukes. Sipping on your cold drink, trying not to laugh and make a mess of the drink in your mouth. You loved how funny Regulus was. He doesn’t seem like the funny type but he does know how to make a joke or two.

After thirty minutes of talking and giggling inside Honeydukes, you two had walked back to Hogwarts, going to the courtyard to just sit down on the nicely green colored grass.

You had made a joke causing Regulus to chuckle, before he cleared his throat and had said your name.

“Y/n.”

“What?” You had said nervously, confused on why he stopped laughing and randomly said your name in such a serious manner.

“I can’t do this anymore. Every time I’m with you I just… I want to kiss you. I really like you, if you don’t feel the same it’s fine I don’t expect you to, we have only known each for two almost three months but… if-“

You cut him off with a kiss.

Neither of you two could describe how you felt. Two hearts beating so fast.

“I like you too…” you had said, blushing while looking away.

Regulus smiled, leaning in for another kiss.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

James had a tough night. He was hanging out with Lily but all he could think about was you. What if he was hanging out with you instead, would you two be talking about the pranks he wanted to pull on Snape?

Come to think of it, he hadn’t pulled a prank in months, Lily never liked them so she told him to stop.

Him and Lily were not that similar, sometimes opposites don’t attract. James had learned the hard way. You were exactly like him, he really missed you.

After an hour of just hanging out with Lily, she got bored of his silence, leaving saying she was tired, but he knew she wasn’t tired at all.

He left once Lily went up to the girls' dormitories. Now he was in bed, not sleeping, wide awake, with Peter snoring loudly to his left.

He missed you so much. His heart ached when he remembered that night. The tears streaming down your face, when you yelled at him, when you walked out of his life.

The very next morning, he awoke with dark circles under his usually cheery eyes.

“You good mate?” Sirius asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, I’m fine just didn’t sleep well.”

Sirius just nodded, he knew James was lying, it was obvious. James was never good at lying.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

“What’re you staring at?” Lily asked, her head tilted slightly with no expression on her face.

“Nothing,” James says, only tearing his gaze away from you and Regulus when he realizes Lily was staring at him.

James sucked at lying. Lily knew he was staring at you. She also knew that she basically broke you and James up. So why was he staring at you when she’s right next to him?

Lily sighs, turning her attention away from James and towards her food, then at you.

Once James realized Lily wasn’t paying attention to him, he turned his gaze back to you. It had only been a few months since the breakup so why were you happy? Why were you laughing at a joke Regulus made? Why are you currently leaning on his shoulder because of a joke he made that was definitely not funny?

Are you seriously replacing him with a Slytherin of all people… his best mate's little brother too? Were you trying to get his attention? It’s definitely working, can’t you feel his gaze on you?

“No way she’s laughing with Regulus,” Sirius says, scoffing as he talks.

James’ gaze now broken and on Sirius, “Right, it’s like she’s trying to get my attention,” James says, rolling his eyes.

“Or maybe she’s finally moving on,” Remus suggests, Sirius and James scoffing at that.

“With Regulus? Please, they won’t last. He can barely function without our parents, doubt he can keep a relationship,” James laughs at what Sirius says.

“Can’t wait to see your brother break her heart, it’ll be entertaining,” Remus now sighing, tired of the conversation about James and his exes maybe new boyfriend.

Peter randomly butts in the conversation, “If you ask me, I think they’re an amazing couple, just like you and Lily, Prongs.”

James pauses, if Peter thinks you and Regulus are a good couple, would everyone else think the same? He felt sick, he didn’t want you moving on. He didn’t want to see you happy with another boy, and especially not a Slytherin.

“No, they don’t suit each other. Sirius can back me up, Regulus is too rude for Y/n, she prefers the sweeter guys.”

Sirius laughs, “I hope you aren’t referring to yourself as a sweet guy, plus that’s my brother you’re talking about.”

James lets out a small grin, “Yeah yeah, I’m leaving now. I have to do something.”

Lily now paying attention to James, “Where are you go-“ she couldn’t even finish what she wanted to say before James rushed out of his seat and made his way to wherever he was going.

“Does anyone know where he’s going?” Lily asked the other three Marauders, all three shrugging.

Lily sighed, about to put her head down until she saw both you and Regulus leave the Great Hall with James slowly following you two.

Confused and frustrated on why her boyfriend was now giving all his attention to the girl he left for her, she got up and made her way to James.

Once you made your way to the library to find the book you’ve been waiting to finally be turned in by the other student who had been reading it for forever, Regulus was the one who noticed James had been following you guys.

He subtly let you know, making you have a quick look behind you, seeing James walk behind you guys trying to be subtle but failing.

Regulus noticed the way you tensed up when you saw James following you two. He knew you still cared about him in some way, but he didn’t know how much.

“Are you okay?” Regulus whispered, grabbing your hand under the table to try and comfort you.

“Yeah, I’m fine; just wasn’t expecting him to follow us,” you whispered back, squeezing his hand.

“Hey, you,” Regulus said, getting your attention back.

You turned to face him, a small smile on your lips, “Hey, yourself.”

Regulus took your hand and kissed the back of it, making you blush and look down at your lap.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Regulus asked again, genuinely concerned for you.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I have you; what else could I possibly want?”

Regulus smiled at that, leaning in to give you a kiss on your cheek.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes, and for the first time in months, you truly felt happy.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

“What do you mean? Of course, I don’t like her?” James said as if what he was saying was obvious.

“What do I mean? C’mon James, you’re always staring at her, you even left the Great Hall because her and another dude did!” Lily’s almost had enough of bickering back and forth.

“So what? I left her for you, stop being so insecure, she means nothing to me, it’s a coincidence that they left the same time I did, don’t over analyze it like you always do!” James replied angrily, having enough of this conversation because if he was being truthful, yes he left the Great Hall because he saw you and Regulus leave hand in hand!

“Insecure? Wow James, this is so stupid, just admit it! You still love her, but why? When we were meeting in secret you always told me she was boring and other things! So what’s changed? The fact that she’s now over you and probably in love with that dude? I am leaving don’t even answer that question.” Lily huffed, angrily leaving the empty common room to who knows where.

James now angry and full of thoughts, he makes his way to the sofa near the fireplace. Does he still love you? He regrets telling Lily that you were boring; you never were. You were always full of light, the best girlfriend ever, in comparison to Lily she was nothing compared to you.

Now James was thinking, could he get you back? You and Regulus might be dating but he wasn’t so sure. You two seem like great friends who might like each other so if he makes his way back into your life the feelings for Regulus would leave and you and James would live happily ever after.

He really liked his idea, now all he needed to do was put it to plan. He would always know your after-school schedule so he quickly made his way to the library.

As he entered he made his way to the spot you always were, he remembers the hours you two would spend there, remembering that made his heart flutter, he couldn’t wait to get you back!

That dream of his was soon crushed.

There you were. The same spot, but with Regulus, not just hanging out but kissing.

Why were you kissing him?

James felt his heart break, he let the only good thing in his life go away. How could he be so stupid, he had you and left you for another girl who is quite the opposite of him.

He stood there for a minute or two, but enough for you and Regulus to notice him.

“Um, James?” You talked, awkwardly looking at him, glancing at Regulus.

James quickly snapped out of the trance, hearing your voice say his name almost made him melt until he remembered what he saw. James swallowed his spit, “I’m leaving don’t worry, continue on with whatever that was.” James scoffs with an angry expression.

James did what he said he’d do. Right after he talked to you after months, he sped back to his dorm, not feeling like dealing with anyone. Anyone that wasn’t you.

Is this how you felt when James broke up with you? He honestly wasn’t sure he could or even wanted to get over you. You were just perfect, and he ruined it.

James had never slept worse ever in his life than that night.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

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embodyingchaos · 10 months

Text

૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა━━☆⌒* harry potter masterlist

last updated: 23rd january, 2024 newest: evermore latest chapter

rules for requesting: ✮ disclaimer: i do not do smut, i can do dark themes such as stalking, etc. requests are open.

draco malfoy melt your heart genre: d. malfoy x fem!oc. best friends to lovers! slow burn! warnings: bullying, violence, kissing, cursing, very bad editing synopsis: as only first years, they know nothing of what's to come. julianna candy thought everything would be normal for her years at hogwarts, but what with meeting draco malfoy, tagging along adventures with harry potter and learning about her parents' history, she couldn't be more wrong. neville longbottom - none yet. george weasley evermore genre: g. weasley x fem!oc. friends to lovers! warnings: none yet. synopsis: if you can't find some common ground with anyone, even with your own twin sister, it can get pretty lonely. it's a good thing for genesis heath that she finds a boy who understands her completely, even with just a few words. ron weasley - none yet.

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sumsumstrashbin · 7 months

Text

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐧 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐳𝐞 ~ 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✧

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 𝟖𝟓𝟎

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲?

𝐚/𝐧: 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲

─────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

The sound of leaves crunched beneath your feet as the breeze flowed through your hair. It was a brisk autumn day in the town you resided in, and the market was bustling with wizarding families picking out pumpkins and other goodies.

You walked hand in hand with James, your partner of five years, and husband of one. He swung your hands together as you walked, chatting about your surroundings.

“Care for a candy apple, love?” He asked, approaching one of the booths.

“Sure.” You smiled, letting go of his hand to let him pay.

He held it out to you, waiting for you to take it. As you reached out to take it, he yanked it out of reach. “Excuse me, miss, you owe me some form of payment for this.” He quipped. “A kiss would be sufficient, I suppose.”

You rolled your eyes, giving him a peck on the lips. He then handed the apple to you, taking his compact 35mm film camera out of his pocket. “Smile.”

You held the apple up, giving him your best smile as he snapped the photo.

“That’s going to turn out lovely.” He grinned, putting the camera back in his pocket.

You had become very familiar with his camera, as he had a habit of snapping candid photos of you whenever he thought you looked too gorgeous to not be photographed. Despite magical cameras being readily available, he was quite fond of his muggle camera, capturing still photographs rather than the more common moving photos. He also liked bringing the camera into the bedroom, as he couldn’t resist taking a photo or two of you in rather compromising situations. He always kept two photos of you in his wallet: his favourite photo of you during your years at Hogwarts, and one more intimate photo of you that he tucked away behind the other one for “safe keeping”.

The two of you spent most of the afternoon in the market, and he ensured to spoil you with anything that you may have glanced at for even a second. You ended up at a jewellery booth, admiring a beautiful locket on display. You decided against buying it, as you were content with the things James had already bought for you, so you put it back down and walked off. You quickly realised that James wasn’t following you, so you looked back, only to see him jogging after you.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise you weren’t following me.” You said, taking his hand. You felt something cool and metallic inside of his palm, and he looked down at you with a grin. He placed the object into your hand, while you watched him, confused. When you opened your hand, you found the locket.

“James, you shouldn’t have. It was expensive, and you’ve already bought me enough stuff.”

“I couldn’t resist. It’ll look so beautiful on you. Let me put it on for you.” He took it, stepping behind you to put it on your neck. His minty breath fanned against the back of your neck, and the cool metal of the locket against your skin sent chills through your body. No matter how long you were together, he still managed to give you butterflies. He pressed a loving kiss to the side of your neck before turning you around to have a look at the necklace.

“Thank you. It’s beautiful.” You smiled up at him, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Hold on, I need to get another picture. Stand right there.”

─────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

On the way back to your home, the two of you walked through a quiet park, full of the gorgeous colours of autumn. A rustling sound came from a pile of leaves under a tree, breaking the silence.

“What was that?” You queried, looking over to the source of the sound.

“Probably just the wind.” James answered.

The rustle was heard again, causing him to turn towards the leaf pile as well. Just as he was about to speak, a small black cat emerged from the leaves, looking at the two of you.

You dropped to your knees, calling it over. “Oh my goodness, what a cutie! Come here!”

“Y/n, I don’t know if calling a random stray cat over is a good idea.” He said, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Nonsense. It’s just a baby.” You said, watching as the cat slowly approached you. You allowed it to sniff your hand, before it began rubbing its face all over you for pets.

“Can we keep it, James? Please? It has no collar, and it’s so cute!” You smiled, scratching the cat’s head.

“You know I’m more of a dog person, Y/n.”

“I know, but look how adorable it is! How could you say no to this little face?”

James sighed, knowing it would break your heart if he said no.

“Fine.”

─────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

The rest of the evening was spent cuddled up on the couch by the fireplace with James, and your new addition to the family curled up on your lap.

─────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

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dreamcubed · 1 year

Text

more than a woman 2 | oliver wood x reader

song; more than a woman [bee gees] pairing; oliver wood x fem!ravenclaw!reader genre; established relationship, long distance(ish), fluff, light angst word count; 3,1k timeline; goblet of fire —> order of the phoenix warnings; swearing, relationship insecurities, one argument (gets resolved) summary; you were forced to endure one year of hogwarts without your beloved oliver, so how would that affect your relationship?

masterlist

parts: || one | two ||

“more than a woman to me.”

———————————————

Honestly, it was a good thing that Oliver wasn't at school for the Triwizard Tournament: Merlin knows you wouldn't have heard the end of him complaining about quidditch being cancelled. Still, you missed him, and it was certainly strange not hearing quidditch even mentioned once.

In the one and a half years that you had been together, the marriage joke had persisted, primarily thanks to the relentless Weasley twins. You figured your husband being long distance would be easier to deal with due to the mass amounts of work that NEWTs required. Obviously, you expected yourself to achieve good grades: you weren't a Ravenclaw for nothing. But good grades in the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests were difficult for even the most intelligent of people.

"Poor you," Chloe mocked at dinner during the first week of seventh year, "How will you ever survive without your other half?"

"Fuck off, Smith," you chided, scooping pasta on to your plate, "At least I have another half."

She rolled her eyes at you.

"You seeing him at Christmas?"

"I doubt it," you sighed, "I still want to see my family and his schedule is pretty packed."

"That's what you get for marrying a quidditch athlete."

You didn't bother correcting anyone anymore, and honestly, you didn't want to.

***

A weekly letter via owl was nothing compared to Oliver Wood in the flesh: you felt as if you had been starved all year of the one person you wanted to see the most. If only his quidditch team allowed enough free time for him to visit Hogsmeade so you could meet up, but it didn't, so you had been deprived.

You couldn't help but grow anxious as the Hogwarts Express grew closer to Platform Nine and Three Quarters, even thought Chloe said everything she could to reassure you.

What if he had fallen out of love in your time apart?

What if he wouldn't be excited to see you?

Sure, his letters to you over the last few weeks had contained nothing but enthusiasm over your coming reunion, but you couldn't help but wonder if he was waiting to break it to you in person.

The train came to a halt.

"Y/N, Y/N," Chloe said firmly, "There is no universe in which that man could fall out of love with you. Trust me, you mean more to him than quidditch."

"But, what if-"

"Look, there he is," she cut you off, pointing out the window at the man stood on the platform amongst the parents. One of his hands held a bouquet of fresh red roses, while the other hung at his side with the fingers playing nervously with each other.

Then, his eyes locked with yours, and all your worries melted away as your lips stretched into a massive grin. You ran out of the compartment and began shoving past people to get to the exit, almost barrelling into the conductor as you jumped on to the platform.

Oliver stood watching you with his grin matching yours, already opening his arms in preparation for what was about to happen. You jumped into them, almost knocking him over with the force in which you did it. You kissed him with the same force, like you had wanted to do for the last year so very desperately.

"I've missed you so much, lass," he said through heavy breaths after your kiss ended, "I've been going insane."

"I've missed you too," you replied, tightening your hold around him even more, "Have you gotten stronger?" You felt his bicep.

He gave you another toothy smile, "Aye. Didn't have a choice, the training regime is strict."

"Good to see you back with your husband," you heard Chloe say, and turned to see her pulling along not just her trunk, but yours as well.

"Ah, about that," Oliver said, dropping you from his hold and taking your trunk from Chloe, "It's about time we made it official, don't you think?"

Shock formed on your face.

"Don't look so surprised, lass, I've already waited two and a half years."

"Godric, this is so romantic," Chloe said sarcastically, making you roll your eyes at her. "Seriously, not even a ring."

"Ah ah ah," Oliver smirked, digging around in his pocket before pulling out a black velvet box.

"Get down on one knee in public and I will slaughter you," you quickly said, "Please don't bring attention to us."

He laughed, "Relax, relax, I won't. Here," he opened the box and presented it to you, "Will you officially become my wife, lass?"

You nodded, darting forward to wrap your arms around his chest again. "Of course I will, you stupid fucking quidditch man."

He smiled wider than you knew possible.

***

"This is my- our- flat," he said, presenting the space to you, "Obviously if you don't like it, we can move, but it's where I've been for a year."

"I like it," you said, "Although I want to make it less yours and more ours."

He nodded, "Do whatever you want with it, I'm not home much."

"Will I still not get to see you that often?" you slightly pouted.

Oliver pulled you in for a kiss, "I will be home as much as I can, lass, but professional quidditch is very demanding."

You had known that this was how life with Oliver would be, but it still made you sad.

"We need to tell our parents about the engagement," you changed the subject.

"They've been treating us like we're married for years," he chuckled, "So have our friends."

"Still, we should tell them, your mother hasn't stopped going on about me being her daughter-in-law as soon as possible in all the letters she's sent me."

"You talk to my mum?"

"Yes, Ollie, I talk to your mum. Believe it or not, I want to a foster a good relationship with my future mother-in-law."

"My priorities lie with my future nan-in-law."

"You thirsting over my nan?"

"Perhaps."

You scoffed, "Can't believe I've been replaced by an old hipster."

"Don't talk about Grace like that!"

You both broke out in laughter.

"Godric, I've missed you, lass," he sighed, "Never be away from me for that long again."

"Trust me, I don't plan on it."

***

It was difficult at first, living with Oliver and his jam-packed quidditch schedule, and there were many nights where you ate alone in front of the muggle television you had insisted on installing. But, as time faded away, you got used to it - it wasn't like Oliver was neglecting you, after all. On his days off, mornings off, nights off, etc., he would spend every waking second doting over you. Plus, on his full working days, when he got back so late you were already in bed, you couldn't help but relish in how he snuggled up to you immediately and muttered, "I love you so much," even though he was under the impression you were asleep.

The wedding planning took up a lot of your shared free time, despite the fact you were only planning on a small ceremony in his parents' garden. There were still the caterers, the dress, the suit, the cake, the rings, and so much more to sort out. It was stressful, yet you enjoyed it, as it meant furthering your relationship with Oliver.

You couldn't live without him.

***

You stared at the cold plates of food on the table, the steam that had been billowing off them having long disappeared along with your excitement. A heat retaining spell would have been easy, but for some reason that felt like giving in - to what, you didn't know. Instead, you sat in the corner of the room, on the floor, fiddling with your engagement ring. You wish you could say that you weren't crying.

It's just that - Oliver had promised that he would be home for dinner by six, he had sworn. The clock in the kitchen was ticking past eight and there was still not even a word from him.

Part of you was worried: what it something had happened to him?

Part of you was angry: he couldn't even let you know that he was running late?

Part of you was fed up: you should have expected this outcome.

The door opened, but you didn't look towards the man entering.

"Hey, love, I'm really sorry I'm late."

You didn't reply.

"Love?" he looked around, as he had spoken assuming you were in the main room - which you were, but hidden from his view. Once he walked past the table to head to the bedroom, you appeared in his peripheral, and he then quickly moved towards you.

You refused to look at him.

"Lass, please, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."

"Why?"

He hummed in confusion.

"Why were you late?"

"Coach changed his mind about the evening off 'cause we have a last-minute practice match this weekend."

"He shouldn't be allowed to do that."

"I know, but-"

"Did all your teammates just accept it? Let it happen?"

"Well, no, I suppose Rodnickel did leave-"

"Why didn't you then?"

Oliver sighed, "Rodnickel had to get home to his two small kids who would've been unsupervised otherwise."

"You had to get home to me." You were aware you were being a bit unreasonable, but you were exhausted.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, "Believe me, I wish coach saw that as a good enough excuse."

You sighed, admitting defeat.

"So, what did my gorgeous fiancée make for dinner?"

"It's cold now," you mumbled.

"Nothing a little magic can't fix," he winked at you, pulling out his wand to cast a reheating spell. Once steam was billowing off the delicacies once more, Oliver breathed in deeply through his nose and exclaimed, "Smells delicious, my love."

He pulled out your chair for you.

Fuck, you couldn't stay mad at him long.

***

In your opinion, the cosy cottage that Oliver had grown up in had been the obvious choice for the wedding location: it provided a beautiful view of the Scottish countryside. Therefore, you found yourself getting ready in the guest bedroom of the house, with your grandmother delicately fixing your hair. Not too long ago, Chloe had left the room after finishing the final touches of your makeup to get dressed herself, and ever since you had been sat in silence with your grandmother.

"Getting cold feet?" she asked, breaking the ten-minute silence.

You shook your head. Not in the slightest.

"I wish I'd been that sure on my wedding day."

You met her eyes through the mirror opposite you.

"But, no, you have no reason to be nervous. Oliver is a fine young man, and he loves you a whole lot."

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "It's weird," you finally spoke, "People make out getting married as being such a big deal, but this feels like the most natural thing in the world."

"That's because too many obsess over the rosy idea of getting married and starting a family, without thinking too much about who they're doing that with."

"You think they just settle with the first person who's up for it with them?"

"Yes and no. I do think most spend some time on choice, but at the end of the day, a lot of people jump at the opportunity of marriage when they reach a certain age."

You hummed, "Do you think we're rushing?"

Grace inhaled deeply, leaving a moment of consideration before saying, "No, I don't. You two still wanted each other after living long distance for a year, I think you both know what you're ready for."

Relieved to hear that, you fully grinned, "Thanks, nan," you checked the clock, "The ceremony starts soon, you need to finish getting ready."

"Yes, yes," she dismissed you with a wave of her hand, "I'll see you out there - you look absolutely gorgeous, my love."

You beamed.

***

Rowena, how did Oliver get to be so handsome? You were physically incapable of getting the smile off your face as you raked your eyes over his features: reaching the altar just wouldn't come quick enough.

But eventually you got there.

You passed the bouquet off to Chloe - your maid of honour - before assuming the position opposite Oliver. Briefly, you glanced at the audience of family and friends, and felt nerves ripple within you. They disappeared when your eyes met with your fiancé's, however, and somehow your grin grew even wider.

He looked gorgeous dressed up in the afternoon sun, and he was thinking the exact same about you. It was all you could think about as the wedding officiant began the introductions of the ceremony; you were a nervous wreck thinking about the vows you had so carefully crafted and rehearsed.

Oliver's were to be first.

"As I'm sure you know, quidditch is one of the biggest prides and joys of my life - I don't know who or what I'd be without it. What you may not know is that I'm most grateful to quidditch not for the masses of entertainment it provides me, but for the fact it's how I started talking to you, lass. From the day you insisted on connecting me with one of my role models, I've been undeniably attached to you. I never told you back then, but I think I fell in love with you the moment you first spoke to me - I mean who can blame me? Look at you."

Your heart was racing and you knew you must have looked flustered.

"It wasn't just your appearance, though. Right from the beginning, you've always spoken with such passion, even back when you were shy around me. I know all too well about passion, of course, and I knew it meant that there would never be dull moment around you. And, look, we're three years down the line now, and that prediction is yet to be proved wrong - you're still much more than a woman to me. I can't wait to never prove it wrong during the rest of our lives together. I love you so much, lass, I'm so happy you're now my wife."

The audience applauded his heartfelt words, and as you prepared yourself to say yours, you felt him warmly squeeze your shaking hands.

"Rowena, I- I don't know how to beat that," you began, steadying your voice as you spoke, "You know I had a crush on you long before we even had our first conversation, but I don't think you know how quickly it became love after we did start talking. Merlin knows I wasn't the only one who fancied you, I was far from special in that sense, but I felt special when we played quidditch one-on-one together for the first time. I'd never played it before then, which is surprising to a lot of people, I know, considering who my grandmother is. Truth is, I was always terrified of the sport, yet when it was you asking me I had very little hesitation about throwing my nerves away."

Oliver's face had flushed a light pink.

"And only you can do that to me - make me fearless, that is. Back then it was always more in a 'I can't pass up this opportunity with my crush' kind of way, but nowadays it's more in a 'you give me strength' kind of way, as cheesy as it sounds and as much as I feel weird for saying it. I guess that's what vows are about, though. I love you more than anything, Oliver, I always have and I always will."

As your words finished, the audience began clapping once more.

"So then, do you, Oliver Wood, take Y/N L/N to be your lawfully wedded wife, and promise to care for her, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

He didn't hesitate. "I do."

"And do you, Y/N L/N, take Oliver Wood to be your lawfully wedded husband, and promise to care for him, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

"I do." The words didn't feel real: nothing in that moment did. You were struggling to grasp on to reality as you pushed the rings on to each other's fingers.

"Then I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride."

Oliver's lips were on yours in milliseconds, the sweet feeling like honey that you were so familiar with encompassing you. His arms tightened around you as the audience stood up and began cheering, filling you with an unmistakable sense of embarrassment.

But, you know what?

It didn't matter, because you were now married to Oliver - officially.

***

The clinking sound of cutlery against glass echoed amongst the tables, bringing everyone's attention to Chloe, who was sat near your side.

"If I may have everyone's attention, please, I'd like to make a toast to the bride and groom."

Eyes stared at her expectantly.

"I've known Y/N since the very first train ride we took to Hogwarts," she began, "Meaning I've had to hear her going on about Oliver a lot longer than the rest of you."

The typical laughs came in response.

"And Godric knows did she use me to get near him all the time - I can't exactly complain though, as she obviously knew what she was doing. Now, I don't know how many of you are familiar with this, but ever since before they were dating, there's been a running joke that they were already married, so, really, today changes nothing."

Again, laughter.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding - it truly is wonderful to get to celebrate my best friend and ex-quidditch captain's happiness, even if it means being forced to watch them kiss. I love you both, and I wish you a great marriage."

The tables boomed with applause as you smiled your thanks at Chloe, truly feeling as if you couldn't get any happier than that moment. You felt Oliver's hand gripping yours from under the table, and so you turned to look at him to see that his gaze was already on you.

"Hi," you said softly.

"Hi," he replied, grinning whilst his eyes flickered to your lips.

"Uh uh, keep it in your pants til tonight, mister."

He sighed dramatically, "You're lucky I love you."

You chuckled, "I think you'll find that you're lucky I love you."

———————————————

parts: || one | two ||

masterlist

written; 28/09/2022 —> 29/10/2022 published; 29/10/2022 edited; —/—/——

taglist; @workinatdapyramid @iluvweasleys

#oliver wood #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood x you #oliver wood x y/n #ravenclaw reader #light angst #fluff #established relationship #hp oneshot #hp #hp oneshots #harry potter #harry potter oneshot #oliver wood oneshot #hp fanfic #harry potter oneshots #harry potter fanfic #oliver wood fanfic

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