THE STRANGEST OF PLACES - Chapter Twenty One
draco x fem!ravenclaw reader / postwar au series
an: happy new year guys ♡ your kindness and patience has been very much appreciated. i hope your holidays have been wonderful, if you have celebrated :)
warnings: possible strong language, angst, unrequited love, alcohol use (characters are 18+)
wc: 4194
masterlist
taglist is now closed - i’ve officially run out of tags! thank you all
The Greengrasses Come to Tea
Days pass by rather quickly when you're miserable as sin and dreading a certain something.
Another letter from Narcissa arrived the day before the dinner was planned to go ahead. In her letter she had explained, in thorough detail, exactly how she expects the evening to go, exactly how she expects Draco to behave, and exactly when to get down on one knee.
It was so calculated Draco felt like he was reading an instruction booklet.
Nothing much had changed, apart from the fact Granger's visit did nothing but play reruns in his mind. He was pretty certain you had no idea she'd come down to see him, otherwise she wouldn't have been there. The information she gave to him had scenarios playing out in his head. What would happen if he did show up? Would you be happy? Mad? Would you kiss him, slap him, or just tell him to get the hell away from you? He likes to think you'd run into his arms, but after how foul he was, he wouldn't blame you for breaking a piece of your mind. It's not too late, Granger said.
Can he really fix this mess? Would you really love him despite his cowardice, despite him making all the wrong decisions and leaving you no choice but to turn away. Could you find it in you to forgive him?
Over the last few weeks, as you've been avoiding each other like the plague, he's come to see that he never even tried to fight for you. Never once did he prepare himself to stand up to his parents. That's not to say he hadn't thought of it, because he most certainly had, but the bravery he would need escaped him. No wonder you're finished with him, he'd once again allowed himself to be pushed along the road by someone else. You were far too good for someone like him anyway, he tells himself. Someone else out there will have the guts he doesn't possess, and fight for you, just how he should have done. With only a day left until he was made to give his life away, Draco's patience was running very thin, and even someone being within his proximity irritated him, but Astoria seemed to be oblivious to this and invaded his space regardless. He held his tongue, because he's about to spend every waking moment with the girl, but in his mind he was thinking of several ways he could disappear without anyone knowing.
"Beautiful afternoon," Astoria sighs, once again trying to brush her hand against his as they walked along the edge of the lake, "don't you think, Draco?"
He retracts his hand into his pocket. Astoria was a fan of walks, and since the engagement was settled to happen, and you were out of the picture, she'd been asking him to join her most days. Draco, feeling like, somehow, his mother was watching his every move, agreed, but hated every second of being away from his dorm room. From the corner of his eye, he could see her growing impatient with his inability to reciprocate her efforts.
"It's nice," he mutters, "always liked the lake."
"As I've heard," she smiles across at him, "didn't you befriend the giant squid in your younger years?"
Draco chuckles lightly.
"The squid is harmless, and actually enjoys the company of many students," he explains, "I'm not special, I'm afraid."
"I think you are," she compliments, and he can't help but feel a little nauseous. It's so wrong that this girls feelings are being wasted on him, "even if the squid doesn't."
Draco only smiles thinly.
"Thanks," he answers quickly. He feels her getting closer, her arm brushing his. He knows he must show some sort of willingness if this was to work, so he gestures for her to loop her arm around his. She does so in a heartbeat, and leans into him.
"So," she begins, sounding a little cautious, "you and your friend are still not speaking?"
Once the incident in the woods happened, Draco returned to the Slytherin common room looking worse than ever. His hair was a mess, his face was pale and his eyes puffy. Astoria, because why would anything be in his favour, happened to be reading in the common room when he entered looking like that. She rushed to him, of course, fussed about how upset he looked and sat him down, rubbing his arm. Draco felt so numb he didn't even feel her presence beside him, or really hear what she was saying. That's when he mumbled, staring into the fire;
"It's over. We're done."
Astoria knew in that moment, within a day, you had held your end of the bargain. It was perhaps cruel, but she felt a weight lift off her shoulders. He never questioned her about approaching you, he simply didn't have the energy for an argument. You knew, and you'd made your decision. Maybe, in some sick way, it was a blessing he didn't have to be the one to do it. He wasn't sure he could.
Draco refuses to speak about you, and Astoria knows this, but asks, in a roundabout way, if he's been reckless and gone back to you. Each time she asks, he feels his heart snap all over again, and forces out an answer that pleases his future wife.
"No," he answers shortly, and Astoria says no more on the matter. She only nods.
"Have you thought about what you might do after school?" she changes the subject as they stop at the water's edge. Gentle, little waves roll up the shore and crash by their feet, "I'm sure your exam results will be good."
"Hopefully," he says, his voice as empty as always, "the Ministry, maybe. Or something in medicine. Haven't decided yet."
"You'll be great, no matter what you do," she said, looking up at him with longing eyes. He looks back at her, another guilty feeling taking over him, "you're wonderful, Draco."
From the way she's looking at him, he knows what the girl is asking. It's not the first time she's looked at him that way, either. She wants him to kiss her. To show her that this decision is the right one, and that she's worthy. God, he feels like a criminal. He moves his head to look over the water, but Astoria's hand brings his gaze back to her. The look in her face tells him her patience is running rather thin, too.
"Draco," she whispers to him, fingers tracing his jaw. The only touch he can feel is yours, "you know we have to at some point, right? And tomorrow, they'll expect it."
He feels like he's being unfaithful. Her eyes are screaming it, asking him to lean in and take her as his wife. To accept her. Draco feels lightheaded, like he might pass out at any minute, when she's gently pulling him down to her level. Her lips almost brush his when Draco puts his hand on her wrist lightly, stopping all her movements.
"I can't," he whispers hoarsely, and Astoria's face drops, "I'm sorry, 'Storia. I can't kiss you."
"Because of her," Astoria mutters almost bitterly.
This was affecting her, too. He knew that, and just how unfair his behaviour must seem to her.
"I can't help it," he takes in a shaky breath, "I'm still... I'm not over it yet. I understand it's not what you want to hear, and I'm deeply sorry for that. I just... I- I need time."
She nods, and remains close, but she doesn't pressure him anymore. He can see, that even she is doubting his ability to see this through. He tries to move away, but she holds on to him. She needs someone right now, so they stay like that for a while. It was the least he could do for her, offer some comfort, so he rubs her back soothingly and she leans into him. From the corner of his eye, he sees two figures approaching them from a far. He focuses his eyes to see who it was, and his heart drops to the very pit of his stomach.
It's Granger, and you.
Astoria rests her head against his chest, unaware of their company. All he can do is stare back at you, and Granger tugs the arm of your sweater. Without taking your eyes from his, the two of you double back, and walk in the opposite direction. Once you've processed the image before you, you're turning away, rushing before Granger as she picks up pace to walk beside you. If he was feeling any kind of guilt, he was feeling worse than ever now.
"On the one day I convince you to actually come outside," Hermione huffs and puffs as she tries to keep up with your incredibly quick pace, "I can't believe it. I really can't."
"It's fine," you mumble miserably, quickening your pace to get as far away as possible, "this is mostly my doing, anyway."
"There you go again, blaming yourself," Hermione pants, "he's no saint in this, you know. He's just as responsible."
"That somehow doesn't help," you said, now marching back towards the castle, "this feeling... it doesn't make it go away. Ever. The guilt."
"After this weekend, you'll never have to see them again," said Hermione, desperately trying to keep up with you, "and I know that sounds awful, but being away from him, from this school, and the ever growing fear of running into them, might be what you need."
You stop at the edge of the school grounds, Hermione coming to a halt behind you. Hogwarts looked gloomy, even under the midsummer sun. Even in the hazy afternoon sunshine, in the warm and sweet air, it seemed miserable. Graduation was approaching quick and fast. Families and guests of the school will be arriving over the next couple of days, readying for a day of celebration when Saturday rolls around. There was nothing more sickening than that thought right now. Your mother had owled over freshly pressed robes and presents from family members. Flowers, cards, chocolates. Happy little messages and congratulations.
Shame you can't seem to enjoy such a pivotal time.
"Someone up there hates me," you mumble, and Hermione's hand rests against your shoulder.
"Well, someone down here doesn't," she says kindly, and you turn to face her, etching a smile across your solemn face, "and no one at the dinner tomorrow does. In fact, Ron owled me to say how excited he was to see you. I'm sure it's the same for everyone else, too. You're not alone, Y/N. There are so many people who wish you happiness."
"Thanks, 'Mione," you mutter softly, and then look back up at the towering heights of the castle as Hermione starts to walk ahead of you. A gentle breeze ruffles your hair, as two birds soar across the sky to disappear behind a tower. You take a deep breath, and exhale slowly, before whispering to yourself, "in another life, Draco. In another life."
The day breaks into blistering sunshine and clear blue skies. Friday morning greeted the grounds of Malfoy manor with the sound of whistling birds and fresh, crisp air. The flowers were in bloom; brilliant shades of red, pink and yellow. Rather a contrast to the glooming building in the distance. Watering cans, seemingly moving by themselves, sprinkled water over the petals and the neatly trimmed shrubbery as they danced across the gardens. The dark and dreary exterior of his childhood home looked evermore depressing as Draco stood just beyond the gates, gathering the will to enter the front door. Just inside, no doubt, his mother was ordering the house elf to fold napkins and polish cutlery. His father, he presumes, would be tucked away in his study, out of the way and minding his own business. He expects his mother has arranged more house elves to prepare the dining room for what some might say is a wondrous occasion.
Her son was getting engaged, after all. To the woman she had desired, no less.
Draco drags himself to the front door, and with a small flick of his hand, the large piece of oak begins to scrape along the tiled floor, revealing the foyer. His mother had freshly picked flowers decorating the entryway and lined along the corridors. The giant windows cast gorgeous rays of gold into the dark hallways, specs of dust floating in the light as he made his way towards his room. He could at least get a little bit of time alone before the dreaded dinner.
Or, at least, he thought he could.
"Draco," he hears his mother's voice call from the other end of the hallway, hand clasped around the handle of his bedroom door, "I had no idea you were here," Narcissa said as she crosses the space between them, "Why are you hiding in there? Are you feeling well?"
She presses her palm to his forehead, looks at his throat as she instructs him to say ah, darling, and feels under his jaw. With a perplexed look, she huffs, holding his face in her hands.
"Do you need to lay down? You look pale, sweetheart. Is everything alright? Is it nerves?"
Her eyes were kind. When his mother showed her true affection for him, it was oddly warming. Draco knew his mother loved him - that's why he was feeling this pain. That's why she was breaking her back to make sure he became a respectable pureblood, because she knew how it felt to be shunned and whispered about in the street. She knew how it felt to have the world watching as your reputation crashed and burned in a courtroom full of judgmental faces. More than anything, did she want him to avoid that. The less pain he had the better, and yet, because of her divine protection, Draco had never felt so much pain in his life.
"I just need to rest before tonight," he smiles thinly, "please, don't worry yourself."
Narcissa doesn't stop him from turning the handle and disappearing behind the dark wood door. His room came into view; green satin sheets neatly made up on his bed, fresh towels folded at the end and his suit for the evening freshly pressed and hanging from his wardrobe. His belongings were exactly where he had left them; papers on his desk, half read book on the bedside table and his curtains shut. Draco pulls back the long, heavy material from his bedroom window to look down at the grounds below. Glorious sunshine. Water fountain gently trickling in the middle of the maze that was his back garden. A few house elves were trimming the hedges. It's a shame really, because when you were a guest in his house, it was near freezing and covered in thick white snow outside. You never got to see the garden in its full glory. He wonders what you're doing now, if you're already at Weasley's house. Surely having a better time that he was...
Right?
"What do you mean you're not coming?"
Hermione bellows over the muggle phone that Mr Weasley has. Her hands were covered in batter, her apron speckled with flour as Ron and George attempt to hang the "Happy Gradation!" bunting over the dining table (Mrs Weasley, in a rush, had forgotten the 'u'.)
"I thought we'd gone over this," Hermione said, leaning to speak into the phone that was sitting on the side, its cord winding back to the holder at the other end of the kitchen, "everyone would love to see you, and you'll enjoy it once you're here."
You hear a kerfuffle in the background. "I said to your right, Ron, that's your left." George's distant voice laughs, as Ron protests "Do you want to try? I'm trying not to stand on the forks." Then a clash and a bang, and George's laughter erupts into hysterics.
"Is everything alright there, 'Mione?" you ask, and she sighs irritably.
"Ron's just fallen off the table," she said nonchalantly, "anyway, back to you. I would really love it if you could make it, Y/N. It might do you good, to get out and be around familiar faces. Besides, we graduate this weekend! We need to celebrate."
"I'm not exactly a joy to be around," you said miserably, "I'd hate to be a buzzkill."
"You won't be!" Hermione reassures you, panicking slightly that if, by some grace of the Gods, Draco decides to take her advice, you won't even be there when he shows, "please, Y/N. Rethink it? You have time, it doesn't start for a few more hours."
"I'll... think on it," you mutter, but Hermione isn't convinced, "please don't think I'm not grateful to you all. What you're doing is lovely and I do want to celebrate with everyone."
"I know," Hermione's kind voice said over the noise; George's roaring laughter and Ron's angry chuntering just audible,"I understand. Just promise me you'll think more about it before making a decision?"
There's a silence, as you stare out of your living room window, a white lie rolling off your tongue.
"Yeah," you breathe, smiling sadly on the other end, "I promise."
Night crawls in like a bad omen, seeping darkness into the unlit parts of the Malfoy's home; lamps and candles now lighting the long hallways, dining hall and main drawing room. The huge windows cast light across the dark grounds, the humid summer heat still hanging in the air. The antique clock on Draco's bedside table ticks, and ticks, and ticks. He fixes his tie one last time. Smooths down his hair, his suit, and takes a long, raggedy breath.
Grangers words still circle his mind.
There was one last chance still lingering, waiting for his hands to grasp it. He took a long hard look in the mirror at his pale complexion, something that never seemed to change about him after all these years. Still pasty, eyes still sharp and greyish blue, hair still thick and fair. The only thing that ever seemed to change about Draco was his age; the rest of him, even his bitterness, never faltered. Although, even those around him were not blind to the way he had softened - despite him always being Malfoy, his hard demeanour and nasty glare weren't as they once were. Something, or someone, rather, had managed to shift him slightly.
But to Draco, as he looks into the mirror, dressed in his best, all he could see was the same old coward. The same old Malfoy.
"Draco, dear," a loud knock on his door tore his eyes away from the reflection, "they'll be here any minute, I need you down in the foyer to greet them."
"Yes, mother," he calls back, slipping the tiny velvet box on his desk into his pocket and leaving the safety of his bedroom.
The house was filled with the sweet aroma of summer flowers, grown in his mothers flower beds and arranged by the house elf for tonight's festivities. Candles and sconces lit his way, and he entered the main foyer to stand beside the large oak doors that Astoria Greengrass was no doubt about to walk through. He thinks back on Christmas, and how you showed up, in blistering cold and thick snow to bring him a simple box of chocolates. How you both drank the cellar dry and played pool like two giggling school girls. A smile creeps onto his face, just as his mother comes galloping down the staircase in a rush.
"Any moment," she mutters to herself, grabbing Draco's arm to stand beside her, directly opposite the door. One last look over her son, she smooths his tie and gives him a loving look, "so handsome," she whispers, pinching his cheek lightly as he grimaces at the gesture.
Then a loud, almost nautisating bell rings throughout the foyer, and Draco's stomach drops. Narcissa hurries over, and with a flick of her hand, the door scrapes along the tiled floor to reveal Mr and Mrs Greengrass, Daphne Greengrass, and her younger sister, Astoria Greengrass.
"Ah, how wonderful it is to see you, Mr and Mrs Greengrass, please, do come in." Narcissa graciously moves aside, as Draco extends his hand to Astoria's father, kisses her mother's hand and gives his old classmate Daphne a little bow.
"Daph," he smiles thinly, and she curtsies in return.
"Draco," she greets him kindly, "it's been a while."
"Yeah, just a little," he jokes with a lifeless chuckle, "you look well."
"Thank you," she nudges him on the arm, "and so do you. But, you've always scrubbed up well. Remember the Yule Ball? Gosh, I regret that gigantic pink gown to this day."
The two remenice a little while as Astoria stands at a comfortable distance, watching Draco's every move whilst speaking to her older sister. They laugh about some past memories as young Slytherins, until Daphne finally remembers why she's there.
"Oh, Merlin, listen to me ramble," she says, turning to face her little sister, "I'm sure it's my kid sister you really want to speak to. Right, 'Storia? You've done nothing but talk about Dr-"
"Shut it," Astoria, red cheeked, snapped quietly to her sister, before giving Draco a kind, almost reassuring smile, "good evening, Draco."
"Evening, 'Storia," he reaches out to press a kiss to her hand politely, "you look lovely."
She blushed a furious red, and in true Slytherin fashion, Daphne started chuckling to herself, opening her mouth to comment on her sisters tomato face when the tiny house elf that lived at the Malfoy residence offered to take the ladies coats. A look of relief washed over Astoria, thankful at the interruption. Drinks were poured in the drawing room, Lucius discussing current Ministry affairs with Mr Greengrass as Narcissa gave Mrs Greengrass a very lengthy description of the many portraits on the walls. Astoria excused herself to use the restroom, giving Draco a moment's peace after she talked and talked and talked about her interest in becoming an activist for magical creatures in captivity. As noble as her cause was, Draco was bored to tears. Then the couch dipped down beside him, and he looks up to see Daphne had claimed her sisters spot, a knowing smirk at her lips.
"You're so miserable, do you know that, Malfoy?" She says, swirling sparkling wine in her glass. Draco chokes on his.
"Excuse me?" he coughs, "you do realise you're in my house, drinking my wine as you insult me.”
She laughed.
"Oh stop being so uptight," she said. Daphne had known Draco for many years, and as a result of that, knew his tell tale signs. She was in his circle of friends, and Pansy stuck herself to Daphne just as much as she did Draco. Her fair share of childhood mischief was done with Draco at her side. Parties and celebrations as children were spent sneaking about their parents houses and making trouble for the guests. All those years had gone now, though, but Daphne was still someone Draco remembered fondly, even if he was marrying her sister unwillingly. But Daphne, unlike her sister, had the qualities of a true Slytherin, and nothing, absolutely nothing, got past her, "you do look bloody miserable. What's wrong? Wait, don't tell me. 'Storia's been talking your ear off about magical creatures rights, hasn't she? Girl's about as interesting as a mop bucket."
Draco can't help but chuckle at that, and Daphne smiles over her glass at her old friend.
"Her hearts in the right place, Daph," Draco then defends the poor girl, who isn't even present to do it herself, "it's just... not for me, that's all."
"Sure enough, but my God, she needs a hobby, Dray," Daphne shakes her head, and the nickname was nice to hear from someone other than Pansy. It had some good memories attached to it, as well, "and so do you, by the sounds of it. All I've heard from 'Storia is how much time you spend in your damn room."
"It's called studying, Daphne," Draco points out, finishing his last drop of wine, "I didn't go back to Hogwarts to just sit around, you know."
"Oh, really?" she says sarcastically, "here's me thinking you just fancied a change in scenery," she sips her drink, noticing Draco's glare from the corner of her eye. "So," she then goes to say, "tell me. Why are you doing this, exactly?"
Draco almost gets whiplash from how quickly he turns his head.
"What?"
"I asked why you're doing this," Daphne repeats nonchalantly, "you clearly don't want to be here. I'm not saying that my sister isn't a catch, because for the right guy, I'm sure she is, but for you... I guess I thought you'd be against all this arranged marriage nonsense."
"I am," he mutters bitterly, deciding to stare hard into the fire instead of face Daphne anymore, because, as usual, her observation was off the charts, "but I don't want to disappoint anyone."
"But you're happy to disappoint yourself?"
He swallows thickly. Daphne sips her wine and watches as he squirms under pressure, how he still plays with his fingers when he gets nervous. Then, she shrugs, sighs, and gets up from her seat, "better get ready for dinner. Nice talking, Dray."
As quickly as Daphne left, Astoria reappears, sitting awfully close to Draco as she fills up his glass with wine she had collected along the way.
"So," she says, sitting back comfortably beside him, "what did I miss?"
disclaimer: i do not own hp or any of the characters in this story
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Harry Potter and the Goblet of fire AU where everything stays the same except that the Weasley twins take after Bill and wear their long hair in ponytails and are like, ten times hotter.
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Granger & Malfoy ~ sketch
instagram ~ twitter ~ website
The actual audacity of my friend, who shall not be named, who introduced me to the brainrot of Dramione.
Inspired by Draco Malfoy and The Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love by @isthisselfcare
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A helping hand
Characters: Namjoon x Reader
Word count: 2.2 K
Synopsis: Namjoon’s far too busy for someone like you, surely?
Headboy!Namjoon x reader
Notes: Alright I know I said I’d update weekly and then proceeded to drop off the face of the planet.... My only defence is that my internet is TERRIBLE and I also live a very busy life ahaha.
Warnings: I actually forget what’s in this fic. I think there’s a kiss in it? IDK. Read at your own risk I suppose
GORGEOUS BANNER BY @joheunsaram
Masterlist
It’s no secret that Namjoon has drastically overcommitted this year. As one of the smartest wizards to walk the halls of Hogwarts in nearly twenty years, it’s only natural that he take on as many subjects as he can. The professors had scouted him, unwilling to allow such a brilliant mind to slip through their fingers and not pursue further study in their field. And that’s only academically speaking. There’s also social and volunteering commitments he has to keep and then the icing on the extremely large cake is that the headmaster thought him an appropriate candidate to be head boy.
Which, in all honesty, he is an appropriate candidate. No, he’s the best candidate for head boy. It’s just, with his studies, and the groups he volunteers for... it’s no wonder he’s so exhausted.
Perhaps that is why you can’t bring yourself to wake him up despite the fact that this is the only hour slot he can fit in this week to tutor you. You’d known it was a bad idea to do this the second he’d rocked up with dark circles under his eyes and looking like he was on the verge of passing out. It had been awkward after his mother sent him an owl begging him to on your behalf, and while you had done your best to refuse for his sake, he hadn’t let you. No friend of his would be failing a final year class if he could help it. Especially not a favourite class of his like herbology. Goodness knows why you were even taking the subject, or any subject when your grades are as appalling as they are. You’re just not cut out for academics, it seems.
With a sigh, you reach across him to gather the stack of notes he had brought with him and drag it towards you. In classic Namjoon fashion, all his herbology notes are well kept and detailed. Different plants are sorted into categories based off species, and each one has its magical properties inscribed neatly across the page, followed by interactions and effects when mixed with other magic substances.
You comb through his notes to the best of your ability- their neater and sensible layout does help you far better than your pathetic notes but it’s still abundantly clear that you are hopeless at this subject. At all subjects.
It takes you about ten minutes to decide that you are getting nowhere on your own. You prop your cheek against your hand and turn your attention to where Namjoon is so deeply asleep that a trail of drools pools in the corner of his mouth and if you lean in close you can make out a soft, rumbly snore.
It’s been a while since you’ve been able to spend any type of quality with Namjoon. He’d been so slammed with his final year commitments and you... had not been. Really, the only thing you had going for you was your prowess in quidditch, but as a female the career marks a dead end. A couple of years in the spotlight, maybe an article in witch’s weekly about you, and if you’re extra successful Rita Skeeter may choose to make up a scandal about how you were caught leaving the Midnight Brew Nightclub with one of your more successful and renowned male counterparts in the world quidditch stage.
A stray hair comes loose from where Namjoon had carefully gelled it back off his forehead and falls against his brow. Despite all his time constraints, you’ve noticed from your brief glimpses in the hallways that he’s been putting extra effort into his appearance lately. You liked how he looked before, however, with his cute glasses and dimpled smile and the way his eyes always seem to spark with joy and excitement no matter how trivial or silly the subject someone was speaking to him about was.
Absently, you reach up to gently brush the rogue lock of hair back. His lids flutter slightly with the ticklish movement, but he does not rouse. Instead, a sweet, dreamy smile crosses his face. It makes your heart ache, for some reason. You hope that he’s having pleasant dreams. You hope that he always has pleasant dreams, and that only good things await Namjoon ahead. He will probably end up with an equally smart and sweet girlfriend, one who understands the advanced concepts he likes to babble over and who will support him as he ends up a famous researcher or something equally prestigious that utilises his big brain. In fact, he’s probably been trying harder with his looks because someone has caught his eye. Irene, a fellow Ravenclaw, has been hanging around him lately, and everyone knows Nayeon has been in love with him since second year.
The thought has you withdrawing your hand. The reminder is bitter on your tongue; to Namjoon, you are charity. You are nowhere near his league and the only time you even get to interact with him nowadays is through tutoring sessions because your mum begged his mum to help you somehow before you failed out of your final year.
The absence of the gentle brush of your fingers is enough to rouse Namjoon. His eyes flutter for a moment, landing on you. For a second he stares mutely, and then he sits up abruptly, scrubbing at the dried spit in the corner of his mouth.
“Did I...” he starts, cheeks flushed heavy with embarrassment. “Did I fall asleep?”
Despite everything, you find yourself smiling. Sometimes it’s hard not to smile in Namjoon’s presence. He just has this way of warming the room and more often than not the smile is involuntary.
“Just for a little while.” You reassure him. He deflates a little in relief until he catches sight of the small clock face on his wrist. His eyes widen as he looks back at you.
“It’s been half an hour!” He cries in horror. You rush to shush him as the librarian shoots the two of you a warning look.
“It’s fine, Namjoon,” you try again, doing your utmost to reassure him. It’s fine because he’s exhausted and overworked and you’d rather sacrifice the precious time you have together for his wellbeing then pass a course you’re not even sure you like.
“It’s not.” He laments. “I’ve cancelled on you twice now and I promised that this time we’d study for real-“
“I don’t mind.” You cut him off, and your voice is firm. You reach out to grab his hand, wrapping your fingers around his reassuringly. His gaze flickers to your joined hands for a moment, surprised, before returning to your face. “You’re busy, Joon. You’re running yourself into the ground, and I’d rather you sleep. You could barely stay awake ten minutes into tutoring me- how much use is that big brain to me when you’re that exhausted?”
He drops his gaze, ashamed, and you suddenly get the impression that this is about more than the fact that he fell asleep during your tutoring session.
Finally, after a long moment of silence, he speaks up.
“I know it’s stupid, but I just... I feel like we never see each other anymore.” He admits quietly. When he raises his eyes back up to meet yours, there’s a soft, reserved sadness there. “I didn’t think I was signing up to too much this year, and I was excited to be learning so much. But then I never had time for you and when my mum sent me that owl asking me to tutor you, I thought I’d finally...” he trails away awkwardly. “But I messed it up and we’ve only had two sessions and I fell asleep for half of one.”
That leaves you a little gobsmacked. You’d certainly felt Namjoon’s absence keenly this year. Which is weird because it’s not like you were lacking for social interactions. You still had your friends in Gryffindor. You’re on the quidditch team and you adore your dormmates, so it’s not like you’ve been alone. But Namjoon’s presence has always been something of a constant for you. Even when you were kids and he was a quiet, bookish sort of child while you were out scraping your knees and climbing trees and hexing your brothers. And the removal of that presence felt sort of like cutting off your arm- the phantom pains of his former presence were chasing you around every corner.
But you’d never imagined that he would be feeling something similar. You’d always been under the impression that Namjoon was more important to you than you were to him. He always seems quick to avoid you in corridors and he never lets you hang out with his friends. The only time he’d really acknowledge you was when it was just the two of you.
Kind of like now.
“You’re busy.” You finally say, even if the words seem a little ingenuine. What else can you say? It’s not like he can give up any of his commitments just to hang out. You aren’t in the same classes so you can’t sit together then. He has his club activities in the evenings and Head Boy duties at night. And you have quidditch practice on the weekends. The two of you simply aren’t compatible. “I shouldn’t have even agreed to tutoring, not when you have so much on your plate and I’m just another thing you have to deal with-“
“I want to tutor you.” Namjoon cries out, and he’s so passionate over the topic that he actually gets to his feet. A few stares turn towards you, and Namjoon is quick to re-take his seat, embarrassed. “Why aren’t you getting what I’m saying?” He continues, in a quieter tone but at this proximity you can really tell how his voice simmers with frustration. “I’m upset that you didn’t wake me up because you seem to think you’re not a priority for me, (Y/N).” Namjoon explains.
The words feel like a hammer to your heart. Like he’s hexed your voice straight from your throat.
“But I’m not-“ you begin through a cotton-y throat.
“You are!” He asserts. “You’re one of my best friends. You know what the most annoying thing about my mum asking me to tutor you was? That you didn’t ask me yourself. What are we to each other, if you can’t even ask that much of me?” He questions. He leans in close and his voice gets softer, more unsure. “Or is it because we aren’t as close as I thought? Because I thought we were friends.”
“We are.” You protest. “We are friends. We are. It’s just...” you trail away. You think back on all the times you’ve gone to wave at him in the halls and he’s quickly ushered his friends away. Or how if he’s sitting with you, he’s always tried to avoid places Ravenclaws go to. Like he’s ashamed of you. And even with this tutoring business- the two of you are in the far corner of the library, away from anyone who might bear witness to your friendship.
“You don’t treat me like a priority.” You finally confess. The words have been burdening you for so long are finally free and you feel oddly light.
Namjoon, on the other hand, looks like you’ve slapped him.
“I don’t?” He asks in a small voice. You nod awkwardly.
“It’s nothing huge. It’s just that you never speak to me around your friends. You’re always shooing them away, or meeting up with me in secret.” You look up at him. “Can you blame me for thinking that? It’s like you’re embarrassed by me. And then when I heard that you were being forced to tutor me, I felt so bad. I didn’t want to be a burden, not when you’re already so embarrassed by me-“
“It’s cause they tease me!” He cries. You glance at him, shocked by the shrill tone in his voice. He can’t see you, however- he hides his face between two large hands. “They tease me because they know how much... they know how much I like you.”
Ringing silence follows his confession. You blink once. Twice. Did you... did you just hear him right?
“They tease you?” You ask, a little dumbstruck. “Because you like me?”
Namjoon sighs and drops his hands. He then offers a resigned nod.
“I know. Embarrassing, right? Nerdy, good-y two-shoes Namjoon, with a crush the size of Jupiter.” He groans. “I never wanted you to feel like that, though. I’m sorry- I’m just an idiot who doesn’t know how to deal with his feelings. But it’s ok. We still have ten minutes- we can do a little bit of study so we can forget how dumb I am and-“
He’s cut off by the press of your lips against his. It’s a little cliche, kissing in the back of the library. But your heart flutters as Namjoon’s eyes sink shut.
When you pull away, his cheeks are flushed and his glasses are a little askew on his nose. Your own cheeks are hot.
“Sorry.” You say quickly. “You’re right- we should be studying. You have to get to the gardening club meeting-“
“Screw the gardening club.” Namjoon says quickly, before leaning in for another kiss.
And he really means it- the next day, Namjoon officially resigns from any extracurriculars not directly contributing towards his chosen career path.
His girlfriend needs tutoring in herbology, after all.
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Someone stop me from planning and writing a Marauders Dance Moms au.
No but imagine it, the drama between Effie and Walburga which transcends down to their children until the boys realise theyre all on the same team but their dance teacher always has James and Regulus have solos to go against eachother due to their parents rivalry, this leads to them being dance rivals. Oh, and theres Sirius whos practically a Jojo Siwa varient, oh and Remus and Peter being the underdogs who are actually great at dancing but no one really realises it until Sirius notices Remus dancing alone one day...Dude Hope and Effie teaming up against Walburga. Evan and Barty often being teamed together for duos but their mothers dont really get on, they ignore this cuz they're besties. Reggie and Sirius are like Maddie and Kenzie, so therefore Walburga sucks up to their dance instructor, Mr Fucking Dumbledore (Who no one actually really likes), and then theres his assistant, Minerva, Minnie, the one and only really, shes awesome and we all know it. Ah, someone stop me stop me stop me stop me stope me theres no plot theres nothing stop me before it becomes something stop me-
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Jobs I think HP characters would have irl
Adult edition
Moody: survival instructor, has a side blog where he explains why all conspiracy theories are correct at the same time, including how an alien took his eye off for research purposes
McGonagall: legendary biochemistry teacher in a prestigious university, all students love her and fear her (obvs), probably with a nobel price or something similar
Lupin: Literature teacher, the kind robin Williams would represent in a movie, with very peculiar takes on classical authors' sexualities (all the Tumblr takes on literature are part of his lessons, you know it's true)
Sirius: I thought s lot about this one, and social service worker? Because he'd love to work with kids but doesn't have the patience nor the attitude to be a teacher, he'd love to be able to protect kids from abusive households and the fact that he makes little money would 100% ashame his family, which he'd enjoy to no end
Tonks: tatoo artist def, shed become famous thanks to her amazing artworks and get a lot of body modifications herself. Also, she's sent a few lost 18 year olds Sirius' way in the past, when she thought they needed someone that cared more than a tattoo
Hagrid: same job, guarding a big ass forest and befriending the bears and the deers alike, no need to change anything imo
Snape: that highschool chemistry teacher that makes everyone hate the subject and has been reported for student abuse several times. I will take no criticism in this
Molly and Arthur: shed still be a stay-at-home mother, but she'd have a blog with recipes and DIYs for other momma's. He'd fix dishwashers or something like that for a living, but he'd also have a little workshop where he takes pieces that no longer work and put them together to invent things, most of them useless but interesting nonetheless
James: we don't have a lot of canon info on hum, but I'm going to say he inherits his dad's millionaire company. Which is quite fun because he'll often go to a pub with Sirius and Lupin and people will wonder wtf a dude in a 10K suit is doing chatting and laughing with two dudes that look like a coffee shop au, at best.
Lily: she's a important lawyer that mainly works "protect the little guy" cases but will sometimes take quite famous cases and beat the opponents ass in court like it's not big deal, then go back to her small office and use the money to keep rich assholes on their toes. No one quite believes who she's married to.
Dumbledore: he's publicly known as an author, a genius scientist with the mind if a genius that can jump from chemistry to astrophysics without breaking a sweat, and has also won literature prices for his novels. On the other hand, he's also (one of) the most influential persons in the country, having politicians, lawyers, businessman and many others in his pocket, as well as afraid of him
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Just a Gryffindor with their emotional support Hufflepuff🦁🦡
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Practice/test of Jersey Sheila from my insta AU!
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"Nah, I'm staying in the dorms for the holidays, no point in going home."
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“Hey-” She began, but was promptly cut off when he got near, picking her up into an embrace and spinning her a bit, like something out of a fairytale. Her laugh echoed off scorched walls, to which she would surely ask about later, but not now.
Instead, when she was finally placed down, she was dipped, secured between the fold of his arms and outstretched leg, and kissed breathless. Her hands carded through his hair without thought and his mouth slanted against hers, as though trying to consume her right there. She didn’t mind. Though a woman of principle and desires of her own, she didn’t care if he swallowed her whole.
She didn’t know if it went on for minutes or for an eternity. But she tightened her hold around him as he slowly and gradually lifted her back to standing upright.
—Dancing With Ghosts in Your Garden // Magical Forces AU (ao3 link)
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THE STRANGEST OF PLACES - Chapter Twenty
draco x fem!ravenclaw reader / postwar au series
warnings: swearing, angst, description of an injury, sleep problems, heartbreak, self depreciation
wc: 4400
masterlist
taglist is now closed - i’ve officially run out of tags! thank you all ♡
Chapter Twenty: The Malfoys, The Greengrasses and The Girl Inbetween
Draco wakes with a numb feeling, a few blissful moments of nothingness in his mind until the throb of his knuckles piece the evening back together. He looks down himself, realising he was still in his shirt, his white and green satin bed sheets now stained with blood from the cuts on his hand. He grumbles softly, muttering how he must have just fallen asleep, exhausted from such an eventful night. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he remembers, from start to finish, just how bad last night went. He runs his hand through his hair, momentarily forgetting about the damage he had done. Hissing from the sudden strike of pain in his fingers, he looks over the spectacularly purple bruise forming over his pale skin.
"Shit," he mutters to himself. His head was pounding from the constant pressure. Draco tried to picture the events as they unfolded, but the one thing he could not forget was his mother's scheming. The fury he felt began to bubble once more as he made his way to the sink of his private bathroom, washing the cuts with warm water, biting his bottom lip to stand the pain. He hadn't realised how hard he hit the cold stone. It was surprising that he hadn't broken anything. Dabbing his hand gently with a soft flannel, he made his way back to his bed to find the box of first aid underneath it. As a lover of potions and brewing things, Draco often dabbled in medicine whilst he was home. It was time he could be alone, away from his parents and their insufferable need to redeem themselves. The manor's garden was home to some fascinating plants, many of which had healing properties, and Draco whipped up a salve for things such as cuts and bruises one afternoon when his parents were away. It worked wonders, but in typical Draco fashion, he kept his little invention to himself. Being as gentle as he could, he smeared some of the cloudy white paste over the cuts, bracing for the sting. Once that was done, he lay back down, still in his shirt from the night before.
As the salve did it's job, he began to think of you, of course. He wonders if you got any sleep last night, what you might be doing right at this moment, and if you were just as confused as he was. The taste of you was enough to make him feral, the feeling of your body against his, the way your mouths moulded as if missing puzzle pieces. It was all so right, and then Pansy walked in, knowing exactly what she was doing. He places his good hand over his eyes, wishing to Merlin she was just a bad dream, but Pansy had in fact seen him embracing you, and now he had to make sure she kept her sour face shut. He thinks on it, wonders why it's so important to him to keep his true feelings from his mother, and then realises how messed it up all seems. Draco had become so accustomed to being controlled, his initial reaction was to make Pansy swear not to speak a word, even though his heart has promised itself to someone else.
But Astoria's words rang true in his mind.
There was little time, it would seem, for the two of you to remain close. Since his parents had been in cahoots with Astoria's, it was very much looking like the rest of his life had been arranged for him. How convenient, he thinks sarcastically. Time was not on his side, and neither was anyone else, for that matter. Only you. The one person he had to tear himself away from. With effort, he rises from the bed to sit at the edge again, a solemn, sinking feeling setting in as he comes to realise what he must do next. Draco felt so helpless, so lost, and most of all, cowardly. Then he thinks to himself, if the tables turned, would you be brave enough to defy your parents for what your heart wants?
He thinks the answer is yes. He is simply, as everyone has always thought, a coward. A hopeless, spineless coward.
After some difficulty, with his head feeling as heavy as lead and his hand throbbing like it was constantly tied up in twine, he showered and felt a little more human after it. Breakfast was long over, of course, but the real feast was in the kitchen. He heads towards it, as a familiar brown haired girl rushes past him, head down and sniffling. It takes him a second to register that it was in fact Astoria, but when he turns to ask if everything was alright, she had disappeared. Thinking better of getting in her business, he continues to the kitchen, as Astoria hides behind a suit of armour to avoid speaking to him. She peers after him, a pang of guilt in her chest.
Draco helps himself, thinking how you would scold him if he hadn't eaten, and then makes his way towards Ravenclaw tower. Surely, that's where you will be. If not, Granger was his back up. He wasn't sure what he would say yet, he just wanted to see you for now. Halfway there and the nerves set in. It would be the first time you had spoken since that kiss. He tries and fails to make a fist in an attempt to ease some of the pressure. Up ahead he sees the giant wooden doors that lead to the stairs heading up to Ravenclaw tower. Of course, he cannot walk through it, but was willing to wait until a cooperative Ravenclaw wanders by. He'd stood, perhaps half an hour or more, when the door creaks open, and out walks a sixth year.
"Excuse me," he calls after her, and the look in her face is extremely cautious once she realised who was speaking to her, "do you know if Y/N Y/L/N is around?"
She observes him carefully before answering.
"And if she is?" the girl answers, looking ready to defend you if necessary. The look in her eyes is rather cold, as if she was angry at him for some reason.
"I'd like to speak with her," Draco responds politely, "would you be able to collect her for me?"
The girl scoffs bitterly.
"I think not," she raises an eyebrow knowingly, "she's very upset right now."
Upset. Draco's protectiveness kicks in immediately.
"Who upset her?," Draco's voice lowers an octave, "was it Chambers?"
The girl seems to ease up a little when the concern he's displaying seems genuine. She sighs.
"She's inside, but I doubt she'll want to see you," the girl says, "she's locked herself in her dorm room. Best to wait until she's ready to face the world."
She turns to leave.
"Wait," Draco calls once more, and the girl stops to spin in his direction, "can you at least pass on a message for me? Please?"
The evening rolled by achingly slow. You were sure your body had become somewhat numb, unable to feel a single thing. Astoria's words circled your mind, over and over again, the way she begged you to put an end to your relationship with Draco. All your tears had been spent when the room finally darkened to the point you needed candle light to see. You lit a few lamps, and then sat on the edge of the bed. You had pondered for some time about Astoria's plea, and if you were willing enough to believe her story, and even more willing to do what she said needs to be done. You would like to think it was for the greater good, but then something nasty tells you that she just wants you out of the picture. Either way, what was to come seemed inevitable, and you had no power to stop it. Standing, you move to look in the vanity mirror, wiping your cheeks of dried tears and then splashed cold water on your face in the bathroom sink. Once you looked a little less lifeless, you figured you should do something about the ever growing grumble in your stomach when a very soft knock came from your door. Upon opening it slightly, you see Emilie standing there, looking a little sheepish.
"Emilie," you croak, and then immediately clear your throat, "can I help you?"
"Well, I was going to wait until I saw you, but you never left your room," she says, giving you a thin smile, "I ran into someone on my walk, and they asked me to give you a message." She hands you a small piece of folded parchment, and you take it from her gingerly. Emilie takes your prolonged silence as a cue to leave you be, "I guess I'll see you around. Night, Y/N."
You heard her footsteps retreating, but your eyes were on the folded paper. "Thanks," you mumble, and then close the door, ultimately locking out the cold corridor air. You lean against it as you unfold the secretive little note, to see very familiar writing.
I think we need to talk. I'll be in the little wood outside of school tonight at 7.
Makes a change, right?
D x
The last few tears trickle down your cheeks as a weak smile graces your features.
Just outside of Hogwarts was a small wood. Not the Forbidden Forest, just a small, unassuming group of trees that stood firmly in place. Pine trees, you believed. You could smell them from a mile away, and as you edged ever closer to the wood edge, your chest felt tighter with each step. Why he had chosen this location, you were unsure, but when the trees came closer, you could see a little flicker of light. Gut instinct told you to follow it, and so you did. As the small flicker of orange light grew larger against the thick tree trunks, a clearing came in to view, and there you saw a blanket on the ground, a few candles, and Draco at the centre. He looks up when he hears footsteps, a giant smile across his pretty face.
"Hi," he says, standing, "I'm so glad you made it."
"Hi," you repeat back, looking a little awestruck at the view, "what's all this for?"
Draco swallowed thickly. Since you locked yourself away for the day, it had bought him some time to think about what to do. He decided that if he was to be wed to Astoria, then he was going to be selfish. He was going to spend one more night with you, and he didn't care how self centered he seemed.
"I just thought we deserved some quiet time, away from everything," said Draco, crossing the small space to stand before you, "to be together."
"I-I don't understand," you stutter, "I thought you wanted to talk... about, you know."
He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly.
"Well, yeah, but I just figured this was nice," he mumbles, then clears his throat, "but, uh, yeah we probably should. What, uh, part do you want to talk about?"
"Are you serious?" you spit, not intending to sound so cruel, "how about the fact we kissed and Pansy walked in on us? Or how about Astoria, she's a big topic as of late."
Draco sighs, throwing his head back and closing his eyes.
"I don't want to argue with you," he said wearily, "I only wanted to have a nice evening together."
You feel slightly guilty. He's laid out such a nice area for you, lit candles, chosen a fluffy blanket for you to sit on. Maybe it can wait...
"Sorry," you mumble, and he returns his gaze to you, "a lot going on at the moment."
He moves to brush his fingers over your hand. You allow him. His fingertips send jolts through your body, and you ache to feel his touch once more. He takes your hand in his, squeezing lightly, as your eyes lock. He's so handsome, with the dim light framing one side of his face. You squeeze back, as he leads you over to the blanket, gesturing for you to sit. You do so, and he joins, as close as he can get. Once more he takes your hand in his, and you notice briefly how he keeps the other hand covered by his sleeve. He begins to draw comforting circles against your skin. It was quiet, until his soft voice broke through the pleasant evening air.
"That kiss," he whispers, and you look up at him, his face dangerously close, "meant everything to me, you mean everything to me."
"Draco-"
"Please, just," he stops you, biting his tongue before speaking again, "let me say this. I need to."
You remain quiet.
"You're the first real friend I've ever made," he goes on, and you feel the very last string in your heart snap, "and the first girl that, well, that I've..." he hesitates, looking at you for reassurance. You want to hear it, of course you do, but with the near future and Astoria lurking over you like a bad omen, you couldn't allow yourself to hear it. You fear it may be the straw that finally breaks the camel's back.
"Don't," you croak, and his eyes fill with both hurt and confusion, "don't, Draco. You can't say it."
"I know," his grips tightens, and you can almost feel the fury radiating off him, "but I need to, before-"
"Draco," you say in utter seriousness, standing up from his embrace. You can't look at him, the face you had been dreading was staring right back at you. You weren't ready for it to happen so quickly, but fate had decided on this moment, "you don't need to explain. I know what's going to happen. Astoria has told me everything."
"Huh?" he sounds, now standing to try and face you. You abruptly turn away, "told you what, exactly? Did she upset you? Is that why you were in your room all day?"
You stifle a sob into your jacket sleeve, and took a deep breath before facing him. His eyes were calling for you, begging for you to come closer. It was a pain you wish to never feel again.
"I know about the dinner, the engagement, everything," you mutter miserably, "it's too late, Draco. We've run out of time."
He goes to speak but seems lost for words. His eyes are glossy against the orange hew of the candles. Such a pretty place for such a solemn conversation. Draco wasn't ready either, he hadn't thought it through. He was perhaps being a little naive for thinking he could have one more night with you, but there were no words coming to him. No way of telling you he could no longer be in your life. It was breaking him, but hearing it come from you seemed to break him more than anything ever could.
"I see," he breathes, "you don't wish to spend another moment with me, do you?"
"That's not it, Draco," you cry softly, "I'd spend every waking moment with you, but I am not the women for you, we've known that from the very beginning. Don't act like you thought things would change... we always knew, didn't we?"
"So, that's it, then?" he snaps, "you don't even want to say goodbye? Have one more moment together, after everything?"
"What's the point?" you stress, feeling like your body might collapse under the weight of your melancholia, "I can't take it anymore, Draco. I can't. I can't keep dragging this out just for the heartache to hurt even more. After seeing Astoria... I... I'm done, Draco."
He chokes on his own sob, but quickly stifles it. He hadn't prepared himself for what it would feel like when he finally lost you, but it had driven him to a dark place in his mind, and when he wanted to, Draco could cut to the bone. Right to the bone.
"Fuck it, then," he spits nastially, "I don't even know why I did all this shit," he launches the blanket and furiously kicks the candles as far as possible, "I really thought we'd at least get a nice goodbye, you know? But fuck me, right? Fuck all of this. And fuck you, Y/N. As if this is how you want to leave things."
"Draco, please," you sob.
"No, it's done. You've made it clear. Just go." He turns from you, rage filling every crevice of his body. He feels like he might implode. The hurt he feels is like nothing he's ever experienced before, and he wants to rip it out of his chest and stomp all over it.
If this is love, he doesn't want it.
You remain quiet for a moment, looking around at the destroyed evening. It wouldn't be right for you to entertain it, that's what you tell yourself. Draco is heaving, you can see from how rapidly his shoulders rise and fall. The ache in you is unbearable.
"I will cherish you," you then mutter, not knowing if any words will give him peace, but you try anyway, "always. Take care of yourself, Draco."
You couldn't stand it another minute, and dash before he can say anymore. It was done. You'd cut the tie, and along with it severed every piece of hope you had. As you climb the hill back to the castle, tears trickle down your face silently. You had nothing left to feel now, all you had was the empty void Draco left behind. Empty, hollow and broken, you head for the solitude of the same four walls you had seen all day. When Draco finally turns, you're not there, and the forest is now dark and lonely.
Just like he's always destined to be.
One month passes.
He wakes in a sweat for the fourth time that week. Ever since you left the woods that night, Draco suffers the same recurring nightmare. He's watching through a window, as you marry a faceless man. He's shouting, banging his fists against the glass, but no one hears him. Not even you, and as the unknown man leans in to kiss you Draco wakes, shooting up in his bed, dripping with sweat. Then, your soft, sad voice trickles back in; I will cherish you, always, and he lets out the most awful sob. His heart was breaking, every day, every minute, every hour. Every time he saw you across a room, the hall, the corridor, the courtyard. He broke a little more each time.
And he could see it in your face too.
He was so foul to you. Said such awful things, and now he can never take it back. He can never make it right. When his alarm clock blares not only a few hours after his last nightmare, he slams his fist down on to it, cracking it slightly. He has no desire to show up for his exam today, but he has to. His education is the only thing he's ever had control over, and he needed it to get a good job and make his own money. He drags himself, like he has every morning since, to his private bathroom to see the delightfully dark circles under his eyes. He makes little effort, throwing on whatever he can find. The letter his mother sent regarding the engagement sits on his desk, opened, with a little velvet box next to it. Inside sits a stunningly silver ring, with a huge green emerald embedded within it. A family heirloom, and worth a small estate, it sits waiting to be placed on Astoria Greengrass's finger in a few weeks time. Draco avoids even touching it. Astoria accompanies him to most exams now, and he doesn't quarrel about it. He simply lets her talk. Sometimes you sit the same exam, and when you're sitting in front of him, he spends more time ogling the back of your head than he does writing answers.
He skips all meal times, and only goes to the kitchens late. He doesn't spend time outside the common room unless he absolutely has to, and only turns up for Quidditch practice and matches. He doesn't look for you in the crowd, he doesn't get his hopes up. Draco lives for whatever is planned for him and nothing else. Sleepless nights turn into sleepless days, then weeks, until he's so tried he falls asleep at his desk studying. He doesn't even know how he gets through exams, he just drinks barrels of coffee and hopes for the best, drowns himself in Quidditch practice and spends as much time whizzing around the field as he can. McGonagall has offered him some time to talk, but Draco refused politely. Even she can see he's a shell now.
Hermione tries to coax you out of your dorm after exams. She asks you to the tearoom in Hogsmeade, she asks you to play chess, even just a walk. Each time you decline politely and crawl under your covers, or sit and study at your desk until your hand aches from writing. You, too, have the same recurring nightmare, but instead it's you watching Draco live his life with Astoria as his wife. You go to meals to satisfy Hermione that you're eating, but longly look at the place he always used to sit. You watch Astoria with her friends, and refuse to smile back at her. You go to your exams and go back to your dorm. That's all you have the energy for. That's all that's worth doing lately. Every night before you sleep you hear Draco's harsh words, see him turning away from you as you broke him one final time. And, to top it all off, you've been invited to Ron's for a pre graduation dinner at the same time Draco is proposing to Astoria. How on earth you were supposed to sit through that, you had no idea, but you were determined to try for Hermione's sake. Your parents wrote to you, having no idea what was going on, and you replied like everything was rosey. You zone out in the library, dread seeing him at examinations, and sob into your pillow so much you need a new pillowcase.
Nothing is right, everything is wrong, and the storm outside your bedroom window rages on and on and on as you scribble notes on parchment. This whole time you've only ever been the girl in the middle. The Malfoys, the Greengrasses, and then you. A powerless, hopeless excuse of a fling, it would seem.
Only four weeks left until you graduate, and yet you've never felt so miserable in your whole life.
Across the castle, at the Gryffindor common room, Hermione wraps a jumper around her shoulders and heads out of the portrait hole. She marches her way down the tower, through the corridors, down and down until she reaches the dreary, dark hallways of the dungeons. She ignores the whispers of passing Slytherins, and makes a beeline for the snakes common room. When she arrives, she's met with a stone cold wall. Irritably, she sighs, and looks for any Slytherin in sight. She paces between the dimly lit corridors, an ever present dripping from the lake above driving her insane. How students live down here is beyond her. Most students wander off as she approaches, and just when she thinks her luck has run out, Malfoy enters the corridor she's wander up. He's windswept, holding his broom and looking absolutely exhausted. She runs, not wanting to shout his name, and grabs hold of his arm from behind, pulling him to the side.
"What the- Granger? What the fu-"
"Do not use that tone of voice with me, Malfoy," she tells him, her voice and eyes cold, "I'm simply here to say a few words."
"What could you possibly have to say to me?" Draco shakes his head lightly, "whatever it is, save it."
He goes to leave, but her death grip returns to his arm again.
"Four weeks," she tells him sharply, "that's all the time at Hogwarts we have left, and then we graduate."
"I'm aware of the timeline, Granger," Draco drawls.
"Shut up and listen," she snaps at him, and his eyebrows raise, "you have four weeks before we leave here for good. Four weeks until you've run out of time to do what's right," Draco stares at her with black bags under his eyes and a complexion like a ghost, "Ron is holding a pre graduation dinner. Same day you're supposedly proposing to Greengrass. Don't look at me like that, Y/N tells me everything," she waves a dismissive hand at his sudden urge to tell her to keep out of his business, "if you have any brain cells left, you'll show up at that dinner. You've never been a coward, Draco Malfoy. Don't start now."
Hermione lets go of his arm, and her words spark something small in his chest, but it dies before it can become anything more.
"Not a coward?" he scoffs, "then why am I marrying Greengrass in a few weeks?"
"Malfoy," Hermione stresses, "turn up at that dinner. Its your last chance. If you don't, then I'll assume you've gone ahead with whatever this madness is. It's not too late. I know Y/N loves you."
She can see how thickly he swallows at those words, as if he's having trouble digesting them.
"D-did she say that?"
"She doesn't have to," Hermione smiles weakly, "and as her friend I can't bare to see her this way, especially when there's a way to fix this. You're not like them, Malfoy, you can pretend all you like but you know it too," she places a comforting hand on his arm, "I'm not trying to tell you what to do. I'm trying to help, the both of you."
For once he's thankful for her sharp tone and bossy attitude. If there was even a glimmer of hope, he wanted to take it, but after the way he left things he feared there was no way back. Not to mention how his parents might treat him. He was in far too deep now.
"Thanks, Granger," he mumbles, removing her hand from his arm gently, "but I'm in too deep. I've made my bed, right? Besides, she won't want me after how I spoke to her. Believe me. All I've ever done is run from what was right. I can't change that now."
"Malfoy-"
"Thanks for coming down here," he says as he walks away, "and if you can, please tell Y/N that I'm sorry. Not that she wants to hear it."
Hermione calls for him one last time, capturing the attention of passing students. Sharing a rather thin smile with them, she shuffles back into the wall. Maybe she had just made things worse, but she had to try. As she leaves the damp, cold atmosphere of the dungeons, she hopes, prays, that Malfoy isn't as stupid as she thinks he is.
disclaimer: i do not own hp or any of the characters in this story
tags:
if your name is bold - i either couldn’t tag you or i’ve hit the tag limit :( sorry lovelies ♡
@lovesanimals0000 @cappgyuccino @lightning1ce @onlygetaway @honeyyypeach @namelesslosers @ghostyv @mikadorbs @redactedhimbo @morganadpl @scarecrowscaresthomas @camille-1019 @valkyrie418 @animeloverfreak310 @budugu @marplest @torresbarnes @bunny24sstuff @champagneesupernova @serafilms @siriusly-parker-main @lovely-maryj @i-bitch-you-bitch @astablacksword @sun-fiower-seed @tinafuentes @venusjustleft @omgitstatertot @aangsupremacy @ilovezy @leclerc16s @aslanvez @talesofadragon @3vasaur @the-skys-musical-echo @yeolsbubbles @idk-dolans @xx-kiraa-xx @sunbruized @vinkiesz @snickersmee @fandomrulesall-blog @astheraa @idkatee @marsanhwa @vintageoldfashion @63sucker @j-n-i-c-o-l-e @anarchistsons @smallsweetvanillabean @newbooksmell777 @tangomangroves @neoteezrenyoung @l0v3lies @delusionally-loveless-by-choice @higanbanagirl @ace152435 @arcanebabe @slythermuf @hea-vin @zucchinimalfoy
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Wrong House Ch 3: How it starts is how it ends
Cast: Jeon Jungkook, Unnamed Trio, Jungkook's mom (flashback, kinda), Madam Pince (cameo)
Summary: Jungkook wakes up on Halloween Morning, and forgets that there's no class + a horrible day in general. Oh right, and he has an encounter with a warrior, or two, and the Gryffindor's Snake.
"How you start your day is how you live your day", is a phrase Jungkook has heard once and has never thought of again but for some reason. That morning. He remembered it. Remembered his grogginess at the time. Remembered the gentle tug as the blanket was pulled away from his body. Remembered his mother's voice as she said it and the way she laughed as he rolled off the bed, still half asleep.
Jungkook hadn’t known it at the time, but his mother was right. The rest of his day was as confusing as his morning started.
Not feeling too hungry at the time, Jungkook decided that staying in the library was likely the best place for him, I'll go study transfiguration in advance. He thought to himself as he ducked just in time to avoid a flying - was that a bludger? He turned to get a full look at whatever it was that came hurtling at him only a second ago but it was gone.
Confused, Jungkook continued to the library only to find that he couldn't enter it. Or, more specifically, he wasn't allowed in. Madam Pince had all but pushed him back out the door as soon as she caught a glance of him with the instruction of "come back tomorrow", and the slam of the door. He must have stayed by the door for a few more minutes after that, mulling over what just happened and trying to figure out if he'd done anything that might have caused the librarian to act that way. He still has that charms book on his desk that he was supposed to return yesterday... Or maybe this was because of what happened last Friday... But if it was any of those, why was he allowed back 'tomorrow'?
With that thought still running through his mind, he decided he'd try to ask her tomorrow and began his trek to the Great Hall for something to eat.
The Great Hall was, with the exception of a few stranglers, deserted. Jungkook didn't bother looking around for too long before taking a seat at the end of the Gryffindor table, he knew none of the other first years in his house were up yet and a quick scan of the tables didn’t show/stand out any faces.
Halfway through his breakfast of eggs and bacon, he looked up at the muttering sound. A trio sat at what was usually the Ravenclaw table but breakfast was typically eaten with whoever you wanted (unlike dinner time so no décor). They weren't talking very loud but in the large room with barely anyone around, the sound traveled strangely well. Snippets of the conversation reached Jungkook's ears and he tried to make sense of it out of curiosity, but the trio seemed to have sensed that someone was listening in and their voices became quieter. I shouldn't have done that, Jungkook thought, quickly finished the remainder of his breakfast, and made his way out of the Great Hall.
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Hey so. Harry Potter Artbreeder. Again.
(remember to sort by Liked&Created, and new, not popular!)
In order:
Normal:
Harry - Hermione, Ron - Ginny.
Genderbent:
Harry (Henrietta) - Leon (Leontes), Gally (Galahad), Ron/Ronnie (Rhongomynia... poor gal.)
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A lost correspondence
Characters: Yoongi x Reader
Word count: 4.9 K
Synopsis: You used to have a penpal, once. But that was long before you accepted a job as a professor at Hogwarts.
Professor!Yoongi x Professor!reader
Notes: The last of the Harry Potter drabbles!! I took a very long time to post it... I’m almost tempted to post my next project all in one go, but I guess we’ll see. It will probably be my last BTS project on here and so I keep being tempted to draw it out... Anyway enough of that, please enjoy this fic!
Warnings: Mentions of the great wizarding war and the stuff that comes with the whole death eater thing, mentions of minor character death, scheming little first years and their pranks, drinking,
GORGEOUS BANNER BY @joheunsaram
Masterlist
It takes Yoongi only a few short moments to work out why you’d be here of all places. Here, being the teacher’s common room. It’s not often used since most teachers keep most of their necessities in their own private offices, and usually it’s only when there’s a staff meeting or a particularly juicy piece of gossip to circulate that the esteemed professors of Hogwarts would congregate here.
“Which teenager are you hiding from today?” Yoongi inquires over the rim of his coffee mug. You wince and hunch deeper over your breakfast. Usually, if you’re not on meal duty supervising the children, you take your meals out to the greenhouse so that your plants have some company. Yoongi has often caught you crosslegged amongst the vincantum buds on the rare opportunities he has to sit and share a meal with someone.
“I’m not hiding.” You assert, because hiding would imply you’re afraid of your students. Which you most certainly are not! You’re a trained professor! A moody teenager cannot and will not intimidate you.
“So then you’re here because...” Yoongi trails away, waiting for you to fill in the blanks. He’s a patient man- he rarely shares much about himself but somehow he’s always ready to listen. And he’s willing to wait as long as it takes for someone to talk. At first you had been put off by it- concerned that perhaps he merely finds you annoyance. But now you are used to it- Yoongi is just the kind of person who prefers to listen.
And his patience is rewarded, because it is only a few short moments before you are offering him a resigned sigh.
“The children in your house are so petty.” You exclaim. “I give them ONE detention- ONE! And suddenly they’re plotting my gruesome death.”
“They’re not plotting your gruesome death.” Yoongi scoffs, settling in the seat across from you. Thursday mornings neither of you have any classes and usually the two of you would spend these mornings together for reasons unknown yet greatly appreciated by you.
“The children in my house are far too clever to settle for something as easy as your death. No, they’re probably planning a long, drawn out season of torment.” He says with an eerily straight face.
The colour drains from your face, and you sigh.
“How do you deal with them, Yoongi? My house is so simple- the kids all seem to be sweet and cheerful, but your kids are so difficult! Nothing I do reaches them.” You complain. When you’d first agreed to work at Hogwarts, you had been a little baffled by the housing system. No, actually, you’re still baffled by it.
He pauses to consider his words, before offering a shrug.
“Slytherins are cunning. If you show fear or weakness, they’ll step all over you. They know you feel bad for giving them detention and they’re just going to jump on that.” He finally says. You sigh, taking a sip of orange juice, before slumping in your seat.
“Any tips?” You ask. Yoongi merely smiles. It’s a charming smile- one that catches you off guard. Ever since coming to Hogwarts, you’ve noticed that he’s rare to smile. A lot of the Professors at Hogwarts have a weary, tired look to their eyes and Yoongi is no exception despite his comparatively young age. And even though you aren’t originally from the UK, you didn’t live under a rock. Every witch and wizard knows about the war that occurred just over ten years ago, whether they participated in it or not. And you suspect Yoongi had his own role to play in the war, even if he’s never said anything. And for some reason, it just makes his rare smiles more precious.
“Don’t be a Hufflepuff.” He finally says, hiding his toothy smile between another sip of coffee. You glare for a moment, before sighing.
“Who even thought of that, anyway? Most classes you disperse the children so you’re only dealing with one issue at a time. One class I’m dealing with Marty Ball who keeps getting dared to eat the plants, and then another I’m dealt with Regina Michaels who’s trying to put firecrackers down my robes. One issue at a time! But with Hogwarts’ system, I have one angel class, one smart ass class, one stupid class and one evil class.”
Something flashes across Yoongi’s face at those words, but it’s gone as quickly as you see it. For a second, you think he’s going to leap to the defence of the children of his house, but instead he goes down another line of questioning.
“If it bothers you that much, why did you choose Hogwarts of all schools? I heard a rumour that you were being scouted worldwide.” He confesses. He’s not wrong- you’re an internationally accredited herbologist and you’ve had job offers pouring in from across the world- research positions, positions on prestigious boards, etc, etc. Certainly, the Headmaster of Hogwarts had been surprised when you’d decided to take a position as a professor.
“It seemed like a warm place.” You shrug. Yoongi scoffs.
“Really? Where’d you hear that?” The skepticism in his voice startles you. Sometimes Yoongi does that- there are moments of bitterness and pain he carries with him that you just can’t explain. What happened to him? What made him into the weary, hardened veteran he is today?
“I was in a penpal program when I was still in school.” You confess. Yoongi looks a little caught off guard. “I think a lot of wizarding schools were participating at the time, and everyone was doing it. So I joined, and my partner went to Hogwarts. It just sounded like a nice place, and fast forward ten years or so and here I am.”
Yoongi is quiet for a moment. And just for the briefest microsecond, his expression softens. It’s so warm and fond it catches you off guard. But then he’s yawning and stretching and the expression is gone like water slipping through your fingers.
“That’s sweet.” He admits, getting to his feet. “That you had a penpal. I didn’t know that- it was pretty popular here, actually. Everyone had one. Even... even me. Anyway, I have to get to my next class. Good luck fending off the evil children.” He says, bidding you farewell.
++
A few days later, Yoongi is walking to your office after hours. You’re a little tipsy after some drinks at Hogsmeade with your colleagues, and Yoongi had wanted an early night and offered to walk you back since he was about to call it a night anyway. He’s surprisingly firm when it comes to declining his colleagues’ pathetic pleads for him to stay out just a little longer.
You’re smiling and stumbling a little, and he grips your elbow to stabilise you with a grimace. And that’s when you hear the giggles and the scrabbling noises of students fleeing from your office.
Your smile drops from your face as you move towards your door- you don’t even bother to chase after the fleeing students. Swinging the door open reveals the carnage- slime packed into every crevice available to your office.
“They get more creative each year!” You lament, and Yoongi barely manages to catch the limbs that go flailing in your despair and stop you from tipping over. You turn to Yoongi and point a finger to his chest.
“This is your fault.” You accuse, with a heavy slur. “You teach them too well! How else could they have done this?”
Yoongi snorts as he grips your wrists- you lean into his chest, and oddly he feels so stable even though the room is spinning a little.
“I didn’t teach them this. And there’s an easy fix.” He reminds you, releasing your wrist so he can pull out his wand. He performs a quick flick. But then nothing happens.
Yoongi arches an eyebrow and tries again.
“Huh,” he comments, and nothing more. Your eyes bug out of your head and the expression is comical. You’re always so expressive but alcohol apparently dials that up to eleven.
“What’s going on?” You gasp. Yoongi merely smiles.
“Just that I’m impressed. They’ve made the slime so it can’t be cleaned with magic.” He nods to himself. You pale, and peer around your office, mentally going through everything that’s damaged. Your office is essentially your living space- your sleeping quarters have enough room for your wardrobe and your bed, but most of your precious research materials and lesson plans are kept in your office. The office that your petty Slytherin children have now ruined.
You can’t help it- you’re tipsy and emotional and the children had been especially difficult this week. Not to mention one of your favourite plants has a parasite and despite your best efforts you can’t seem to save her though she is still barely clinging on. Your eyes well up with tears and spill down your cheeks before you can stop it.
“Are you... are you crying?” He questions incredulously. You sniffle and look away, and so you don’t notice the way his expression softens just slightly.
A firm hand lands on your shoulder and you start. Yoongi sighs heavily.
“You’re drunk.” He reminds you. He’s almost gentle about it- it’s always refreshing when he breaks from his usually gruff demeanour. “Go to bed and I’ll help you clean things up in the morning, ok?”
You squint at him for a long moment and he returns your gaze evenly before you beam.
“It’s a date.” You cry, looping your arms around him affectionately. He grimaces again and tries to push you off.
“Just go to bed.” He grumbles, but there’s an odd little twist to his mouth that almost resembles a smile as he says it.
++
True to his word, Yoongi is waiting at your office the next morning. It’s a weekend so neither of you have classes, and thankfully Yoongi isn’t an early riser so you’ve had more than enough time to sleep off your hangover and choose an appropriately adorable outfit so that he doesn’t think you’re a slob.
“You came!” You beam. He shrugs.
“It’s that or help Taehyung catch the nifflers that escaped this morning.” He sighs. “At least slime can’t bite.”
“You don’t know that.” You remind him, wading through the thick coating of slime towards your desk in the centre of the room. Your desk is buried beneath a nice even coating, and it looks like all the students’ essays you had been grading are now illegible. “They could have charmed it to eat us the second we start cleaning.”
“They’re twelve.” Yoongi reminds you. “They’re smart, but they’re not that smart.”
You sniff in offence before getting down to work. It’s actually not so bad- the slime cleans off relatively easy- you can gather it in chunks and peel it off and most surfaces are relatively unscathed. Even your essays are actually salvageable once the bulk of the slime comes off them, if a little damp.
You keep up a steady stream of chatter as the two of you work. Yoongi has the legs of his pants pushed up to expose his shins and his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He listens attentively as you talk, and works hard.
This is what you like about Yoongi. He has a bit of a reputation of being cold and cruel- likely thanks to his position as head of Slytherin. But anyone who gets to know Yoongi knows that he is actually kind and warm. He’s the kind of guy who will wake up early to watch the sunrise with you and Taehyung, or help you gather bugs from the forbidden forest to feed the carnivorous plants in your greenhouse. He listens well, and he always makes you feel important.
You just wish he’d let you do the same sometimes. He never seems to open up or share with you. You know he carries some heavy burdens- you can see the darkness in his gaze sometimes, but you wish that he’d let you in. You can’t help but wish you could help carry whatever the burden is that weighs down his shoulders.
“What’s this box?” Yoongi questions, pulling out the slime coated envelopes and examining them. Your face falls as you realise that your vengeful students had truly left no surface untouched.
“Just some special knick knacks.” You say with a heavy sigh, waddling over to where Yoongi stands to inspect the damage.
“Actually,” you recall, crouching down and peeling some slime off one of the papers in the box. You pluck it out carefully, trying to avoid tearing it. “This box has letters from my penpal!”
Interest sparks in Yoongi’s eyes.
“You mentioned them earlier.” He recalls. “They’re why you came to Hogwarts?”
You nod. Fondly, you pluck the rest of the letters out and begin the work of clearing the slime off them. They’re damp but the spindly, fine writing of your old friend remains legible.
“Something like that.” You recall. “I didn’t have a lot of friends in school, and he was one of the few I had. I could tell him anything and he’d always be so supportive. And he told me all about Hogwarts and he always pretended to hate it but I could tell that he was secretly having fun. And so, I guess I wanted to see the place he grew up in. And between you and me... I’d go so far as to say he was my first love. I didn’t even know his real name or his face, but his letters were honestly the brightest part of my day.”
Yoongi goes silent as his gaze rests upon the yellowed parchment in your hands. Hesitantly, and with a delicate care you didn’t think him capable of, he pulls the parchment from your grasp and scans his gaze over it.
“W-what happened to him?” Yoongi questions, and his voice has gone oddly shaky. You shrug, and a dull, familiar ache fills you as you recall how the tale ended.
“He vanished. The letters stopped coming during the wizarding war and I couldn’t locate him afterwards. I couldn’t even tell you if he survived.” You confess, and as you confess the words, Yoongi stands so abruptly that you lose your balance and fall into the slime that still coats the floor of your office.
“I have to go.” He stammers urgently. “I forgot to grade some papers.”
Before you can offer a word of protest or comment on the way that Yoongi has gone deathly pale all of a sudden, he’s skidding out of your office with slime-slicked heels, leaving you alone to clean the remainder of the slime.
++
Yoongi isn’t exactly subtle in his avoidance of you after that. Even your coworkers pick up on the way he seems unusually absent from your side. You hadn’t even realised how often Yoongi would linger by your side or seek you out until he just... didn’t.
It’s like being doused with cold water after a warm bath. Yoongi’s presence is always so familiar and reassuring and you care for and trust him so deeply that it’s jarring to suddenly be without him.
“I mean, Yoongi avoids everyone. You were the anomaly.” Taehyung remarks as the two of you work together securing his pumpkin patch. He’s had a bit of an infestation recently and you were trying to help him fend off the little wood pixies that were gnawing through his veggie patch. “Maybe it’s not as weird as you think? Before you started working here, this is just how he was. If anything, it’s weirder that he was hanging around you so much. Maybe things are just going back to normal.”
“But why would he just suddenly change, if that’s the case?” You exclaim. You’re so confused- one moment you’d been reminiscing about your old penpal, and the next Yoongi was acting like you had a case of dragon pox.
Taehyung shrugs, pausing midway through securing his corner of the cover.
“You’re better off cracking some other mysteries, (Y/N).” He shares. “Yoongi’s been impenetrable since before the war, and the war only made it worse.”
You bite your lip- there it is again. That burning curiosity. Why is he such an enigma? Why can you never figure him out? You just want to know him. You want to know what causes those secret smiles, or those dark, pained eyes. You want to be the person he shares those things with- you want him to trust you the same way you trust him.
“What happened in the war?” You’re startled that the question comes from your mouth. You barely manage to stop yourself from wincing. You’ve resisted giving in to the burning curiosity about Yoongi’s role in the war for so long out of respect to him. You’d known it wasn’t a topic he felt comfortable sharing about, and that he would share if and when he was comfortable enough. But the week of unexplained avoidance, or complete radio silence... it’s worn you down. You want so badly to know him and yet he’s put up an impenetrable fortress against you.
Taehyung seems surprised at your line of questioning, but he merely shrugs. He’s never seen much issue in gossiping.
“I don’t know specifics. I was only in fourth year at the time. But he was a seventh year Slytherin, and he dropped off the radar for the entire year. Some people swore he was one of the ones to become a Death Eater, while others reckon he was on our side and helped shelter muggle borns.” He admits. “Whatever it was, it really changed him. He was always a quiet and reserved kind of guy, but after the war... it was like talking to a rock.” Taehyung admits. “It was crazy to see him so lively around you. It was like he’d been possessed. I’ve been sniffing around for polyjuice potion just to make sure he isn’t being impersonated.”
You go quiet. You can’t imagine quiet, dignified Yoongi being a Death Eater. Though he has a gruff exterior, you know at his core that he’s a gentle soul. The times he’s helped you at the greenhouse, or when he’s assisted struggling students... Yoongi is kind.
“He must have sheltered muggle-borns.” You finally say. “He’d never hurt a fly.”
Taehyung shakes his head in disagreement.
“A lot of people did things they regret. Even Harry Potter himself killed Voldemort even if he didn’t use the killing spell to do it.” Taehyung reminds you. “It was a war, (Y/N). No one was safe and no one knew who they could trust.” You shake your head.
“No. I know Yoongi. He wouldn’t do anything like that.” You assert.
It’s weird. You’re defending Yoongi. You’re showing that you trust in him and that you know that he’s good no matter what.
So why is it, after a week of avoiding you for no reason, that he looks like you’ve slapped him when you finally catch a glimpse of him over Taehyung’s shoulder?
“What are you looking at-“ Taehyung asks, turning around to spot Yoongi. Taehyung’s brow shoots out and he offers a smile to Yoongi. “Oh, hello! Out to help me with the veggie patch?”
It’s odd- a moment earlier Yoongi looked like you’d told him you’d murdered his first-born, but in an instant, that familiar, carefully crafted mask is back.
“No.” He says, with an even voice. “I just had a few things to discuss with Professor (Y/N). But I can see she’s busy. I’ll just be taking my leave.”
He clears his throat abruptly and turns on his heel, striding away far more quickly than you ever thought him capable of.
“Damn.” Taehyung says with a low whistle. “He “professor’d” you. What did you do?”
For a moment, you can only stare in horror.
But then it’s replaced by a far less familiar emotion- anger. You’re angry! How can he do this to you? You’re his friend! If he’s going to act like this, you at the very least deserve an explanation.
“I’ll catch you later, Tae.” You say quickly. “It’s time I found out what’s going on with him.”
You brush past Taehyung and then break into a full-on sprint. You must be quite the sight- a dignified Hogwarts professor, sprinting like they’re running a marathon across the lawns, lit by the orange light of the setting sun.
Yoongi has made it halfway back to the castle before you manage to catch him. You throw yourself at him, full-bodied, and he crumples beneath your weight.
The two of you roll for a few steps, with you ultimately landing on top. For a second, he stares up at you, wide-eyed and vulnerable, but then you scramble off him, conscious that students may be watching.
“Yoongi.” You say, as he gets to his feet, brushing damp grass off his robes. He ignores you for a moment, turning to head back inside, but you stop him with a hand around his wrist. “Yoongi.” You try again, and the pleading tone to your voice must do it, for he stiffens but makes no move to pull away. “Talk to me.” You urge. “Why are you avoiding me? Why are you running away now? What’s going on?”
He doesn’t face you. All you can see are his bunched shoulders and the way he hangs his head.
“Is it because I was gossiping about you?” You try. “I’m sorry. I know I should have asked you if I was curious. I was only asking because I want to get to know you.”
“That’s not it.” Is his quiet admission, so soft you almost miss it. You drop his wrist in surprise.
“What?” You ask. He holds his hunched posture for a moment longer, before turning to face you. There’s an agony to his eyes that surprises you; it’s so potent that your heart releases an aching throb in response.
“I was a Death Eater.” The words are rushed, ashamed, and for a moment you’re confused, until you recall your conversation with Taehyung. The one where you’d assumed he could never hurt a fly. “You’re wrong about me: about me never hurting a fly. I was worse than a fly- I was a Death Eater. I joined because I was an idiot. They made it sound like we were going to join this amazing new order, where wizards don’t have to live in secret anymore. And my parents were Death Eaters and so were all my friends so I just thought it was what I was meant to do. I did eventually wake up and realise what was happening. But that was only after I watched kids that I went to school with die- innocent witches and wizards whose only crime was being born to muggles. And even though I spent the war trying to rectify it, even though I tried to save the muggle-borns, I failed. I got caught sheltering them by a fellow Death Eater. And...he killed them all, (Y/N). I couldn’t do a thing- he only spared me because I’m a pure-blood.” He looks up at you and his eyes are misty. Your throat feels tight and constricted. “He said it would be a shame to end such a noble bloodline. He kept me alive and killed them and I was too weak and pathetic to stop him. Maybe you think I wouldn’t hurt a fly but I have a long list of people who think otherwise and I’ll never, ever make it up to them.”
You feel like you’ve been knocked with a heavy metal bat. Your breath comes quick, as you try to reconcile that knowledge with the gentle man you’ve come to know.
“But then why...” you begin.
“Have I been ignoring you?” He asks with a wry, self-deprecating smile. It looks almost manic on him. “Because of the stupid penpal thing.” He finally confesses. He rakes a distressed hand through his hair. “I was your penpal, (Y/N). That was me. I knew as soon as I saw those letters and I panicked because I was really happy. I didn’t know what to do with the knowledge that it had been you the whole time, because I...” he trails away and swallows. His face crumples with self-loathing and you feel tears trickle down your cheeks in response. “Anyway, I was trying to work out how to bring it up, just casually. I wanted to talk to you, but then I remembered that you don’t know what I was capable of. I only lost touch with you in the first place because I was a stupid sheep who thought becoming a Death Eater was the right thing to do. And you’re so kind and sweet and how could I tell you the truth when I know what I’ve done?”
It’s a ringing silence that follows as you piece together the information he has just hurled at you.
Your old friend. Your penpal. The confidante, that little ray of sunshine, your first love... is the same person as the quiet, reserved but loveable Min Yoongi.
You think back to earlier, when you had been insisting he could never hurt anyone and suddenly you understand why he’d looked so hurt. He’d been plucking up the courage to talk to you, to tell you his story, only to realise that you may treat him with the same loathing he has towards himself. You remember the flashes of pain in his eyes when people made fun of Slytherins and then the way he’s also never defended them. The way he’s always ready to listen but never ready to share.
“Oh Yoongi.” You say and then you wrap your arms around him. He goes stiff in your arms, and honestly, you can’t say what you’re feeling. It’s a complicated mess of emotions that sit tightly in your chest. How do you reconcile the Yoongi you know with the Yoongi he sees himself as? How do you handle the wayward path your beloved penpal went down and the place he’s ended up in?
Slowly, the tension bleeds from Yoongi’s posture. The muscles that have tightened beneath your arms slowly unwind and you feel his arms come up to hesitantly loop around your waist.
And then, in an exhale that releases the rest of the tension he’s holding in his body, he lets his head rest atop the crown of your head. You feel his shaky exhale stir the hairs atop your head.
“I’m glad I found you again.” Is what you finally say, amidst the swirl of thoughts in your head. His arms merely tighten in response to your words. “And I don’t know anything about the war or what it was like and I won’t pretend to know what you went through or that what you did was ok.” You confess. “But it’s you, Yoongi. You’re the same guy who would send me song lyrics in fifth year and you’re the same guy who helps me water the greenhouse and sing to the vincantums every morning. And... you did your best to save those people, Yoongi. They didn’t die because of you. They died because of that Death Eater. They only had a chance in the first place because of you.”
For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, and you just appreciate the warmth of his embrace in the rapidly cooling evening.
“You said that you liked plants because they could always be brought back.” He finally tells you. You blink in confusion and try to pull away, but he doesn’t let you. “When I first met you. Last year when you started working here. You said you’ve yet to meet a plant that is too far gone. No matter what soil they grew in or how many leaves they’d lost... with enough time and love they can grow again, even if they’ll not be the same.” He recalls. “That’s why I always hung around you. I wanted to see if you were telling the truth. And I... you were right. I thought I’d given up my soul and heart but I found it again here at Hogwarts. It grew again. With my students. With my colleagues. And... with you.” He finally confesses. Your heart leaps into your throat and this time you do manage to pull away. And when you do, Yoongi is smiling at you.
It’s not a smile you’ve seen before. It’s weighted down with sadness, weariness, pain. And yet there is a joy and hope that buoys him. It’s a smile you long to see again and again because it means that he can smile through it all. Despite everything he’s endured, everything he’s done... he’s still Yoongi.
A holler from the castle has the two of you breaking apart.
“They’re in looooove!” You hear a voice call and you look up to see one of the vengeful Slytherin students leaning out the window.
Yoongi is quick to act- it doesn’t take more than a stern stare and a throat clear to send the student skittering away.
Still, the moment is broken and the awkwardness lingers between you. Finally, Yoongi straightens and clears his throat awkwardly, before turning away from the castle and towards the Great Lake.
“Well then,” Yoongi says abruptly. “Now that we’ve got all that aside... I actually came to discuss something important with you, Professor.”
You arch an eyebrow and offer a smile.
“Oh?” You say. “And what might that be, Professor?”
He offers you a shy smile, just out of the corner of his eye, before gesturing towards the lake.
“Well, I was hoping to catch up with my penpal. It’s been so long since we’ve exchanged letters.”
And it’s a long, slow process.
But eventually the two of you end up all caught up.
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The Story of Aurora Abraham
⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅
Loving you was like dancing with death:
every move a risk,
each step a promise of unimaginable torment.
But I was addicted to the chance
that one more step wouldn't be our last.
For it was your eyes, deep and dark as night,
and your touch, as velvet as the sky,
that held me captive at last.
It was your soul,
as vast and deep as the ocean’s core,
that was more powerful than any potion.
You were my punishment from heaven;
my redemption from hell,
but what mortal would dare defy the call of the heart, Aphrodite’s spell?
You, the angel of the night, and I, the slave of the moon,
guarded the deepest, darkest truth in the charred remains of our love.
It was an almost unquenchable inferno,
an eternal war of hearts,
a battle fought by fire and steel in the ruins of the past.
As we watch the world end and become dust,
I will burn for the sake of lust.
So collapse into me, and you will never fall again.
I am not afraid, my love, to hold you close as the world slips away.
In a sea of flames and shattered glass,
we’re safe in one another’s arms.
The lights die out, the world is ending,
so stay beside me and watch the mother of destruction descending.
Let this world lead the war if it must;
our only duty lies within each other’s arms.
Let them bring death, for it is only a fitting end.
We will be home when we are gone,
and you need only call for me, and I shall come.
And if you die in battle tonight,
I know that you shall rise from the ashes.
And in death’s grip, we shall return to the sun’s flashes.
For there can be no end to the promise we made to each other long ago,
when the stars shone brightly overhead,
and fate was our only friend.
When the time is right,
we shall meet on some other hillside,
your hand clutched around mine,
our souls forever entwined.
Together, we shall be reborn into the world of light,
and our love shall last until the stars collide.
Our blood may flow in rivers through the grass,
but our love will always last.
And when the waters of the seas split in the earth’s core,
I promise to find you on every shore.
You asked me: “After all this time?”
And I said: “Always, in every lifetime.”
⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅
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Jobs I think HP characters would have irl
Children edition
Hermione: not a lot of change tbh, she becomes a lawyer and then enters politics to advocate for civil rights and protect the innocent, she admired Lily Potter's work and decides to be just like her, but eventually turns more into politics because she thinks she'll make a bigger impact that way
Luna: another artist, but she's more of an alternative painter, using the world as her canvas (pottery, train tunnels, the subway, benches...). She becomes insta famous for her random choice of canvases and people start paying thousands of dollars for anything painted by her they can get hold on. She spends all that money travelling to remote locations to try and demonstrate supernatural creatures exist.
Ginny: She loves all sports but she becomes basketball player bc she's fairly tall and fast like a lightning, and when she gets too old to compete she starts working as a renowned sports journalist, sometimes commenting gossip but most of the time denouncing steroid use and unhealthy competition behavior
Ron: he'd love to work in his brothers' joke shop, but since two persons are enough to own a place he instead opens a pub, because he's great at listening to people and always knows when a person needs a coffee and when a whisky. Again, no one believes his wife is Hermione Granger, despite the fact he's in first line for every event she participates in, an his bar fills up with publicity pamphlets about her as soon as elections start
Neville: he's everyone's favorite biology teacher, partially because he's great at teaching no matter how difficult the student is, but mostly because he rants and rants about plants to no end and then stutters when the reproduction section of the subject starts. He almost never fails a student, but that's mostly because everyone wants him to be proud of them, and because he's the most benevolent teacher in the whole school. 10/10 will melt your heart teacher
Draco: Another rich kid that would inherit daddy's company, except the company is corrupt to it's core and draco hates it. So, instead, he takes his business degree and uses it to create a company for the same thing, except morally concerned. He then proceeds to steal every one of the clients from his daddy's business and ends up buying said business when they can no longer compete. Think Batman kinda rich minus loving dead parents.
Harry: he should inherit the company but business is not his thing so his younger sister takes that role instead. Harry... I have no fucking idea. His personality and his likes and dislikes are so influenced by his story (logically) I have no idea what he'd do, given he was raised by loving parents and a happy family. Suggestions?
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