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cursestothemoon · 3 years

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A Cruel Favor

Regulus Black x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Request: Could I get and angsty and sad blurb with Regulus? Nothing specific in mind, Regulus’ entire life is pretty tragic already- just throwing some strained and kind of heartbreaking romance into that mix sorry i like pain this is how i cope

Summary: Your relationship with the youngest Black brother in the form of memories seen in a pensieve by Sirius Black.

Warnings: Death, sadness, crying, the dark mark, ghosts

Word Count: 3265

Author's Note: babe you asked for a blurb and i just did not listen i am so sorry, if you'd still like a blurb let me know and i'll whip up a little short piece but regardless i hope you enjoy this 😌

“You didn’t know him! You didn’t want to know him!” Your voice bellowed, trembling with the burning anger you held in your heart for the eldest Black brother.

It was true, back when the war was just ‘politics’ and the ‘Dark Lord’ a name whispered behind closed doors, Sirius Black had already made up his mind about his family- Regulus included.

“He was my brother.” Sirius spoke the statement as if just the mere fact of relation was supposed to trump that he hadn't even spoken to his brother in the months prior to his death.

You let out a bitter laugh, “Don’t lie for the sake of saving face, you never saw him as a brother; not then and certainly not now.”

Sirius seemed taken aback by your accusation, his words getting lost on his tongue for a moment before he quickly regained his fiery passion for argument.

“He betrayed me.”

“You were the one who betrayed him!” Your accusatory finger pointed at Sirius.

The eldest Black brother’s features went stoney, “The moment he decided to get that mark, was the moment he lost his name as my brother.”

Everything in the mangey old house seemed to still, a silence falling so powerful you could hear a pin drop. Your slow footsteps were exaggerated in the quiet, each creak ringing in both yours and Sirius’ ears. With a tired hand, you pushed a small pouch onto the surface of the dining room table, the vials inside clinking together softly.

“They’re numbered.” You breathed out. “There is so much you don’t know, Sirius.”

You walked through the door and onto the street hastily, not wasting any time to apparate back home.

Sirius sat down in the nearest chair with a huff, his knees spread as his shoulders slid down the back of the chair. He hadn’t remembered just how far up his brother’s ass you were.

Roughly, he rubbed his face with his palms before lazily reaching for the dark velvet pouch on the table. The emerald green reminded him not only of his brother, but of his entire family, the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Sirius couldn’t help the groan that left his mouth at the memories of his family that seemed to plague his mind.

Fittingly, Sirius opened the pouch to reveal just that. The silvery, viscous tendrils that floated through each vial were immediately recognized by the pureblood. You had given him your memories...and a letter.

You deserve to know him.

Y/N L/N

Sirius’ curiosity regarding what secrets of his brother’s seemed to be swimming in the vials bubbled over, he was sure 12 Grimmauld Place was harbouring a pensieve somewhere within its walls, he’d just have to get up and find it.

17 October 1974

Barty Crouch Jr. was an insolent child, the type to collect bones and listen to them rattle. He had a nervous tick, his tongue slithering past his lips every so often in a manner that was so serpentine it made your skin prick.

“Come on then, L/N, be a good little girl and do as I say.”

You threw down your quill in frustration, “Bugger off, Crouch. I’ve said no.”

“Don't be like that,” Barty smirked, coming closer to where you were sitting. “It’s only some homework. You were going to do yours anyway, why not get some extra practice in by doing mine too?”

“I’d rather have unforgivables practiced on me than do anything you ask.”

His sickly sweet smile wasn’t one you were expecting, his voice low and threatening, “That can be arranged.”

Your blood ran cold as you watched his nimble fingers move toward his wand pocket in his robes. Truthfully, you should’ve known better. Being in the same house as Barty allowed you the luxury of hearing all the gossip surrounding him and his hobbies, dark magic and curses being at the top of that list.

“Barty.”

The cold baritone made the sandy-haired menace stop in his tracks, his face contorting into an expression of mild annoyance and frustration.

“There’s no need for you to be acting like a child. Quite humiliating asking someone else to do your work, isn’t it, Crouch? Are you too thick to get it done yourself?”

Barty turned to look at his friend, words jumbling as he tried to figure out how to get himself out of the hole he had dug.

“Reg-” The stone-like stare had Barty cowering and mouth snapping shut, the boy seemingly trying to fold in on himself.

With a simple nod of his head, Regulus directed the him to make himself useful elsewhere, but you were far too taken by the handsome boy in front of you to notice the stomping footsteps of Barty’s as he left. Of course you had known of Regulus Black, seen him from afar and even once had Transfiguration with him, but seeing him up close was an experience in and of itself. His skin was ghostly pale, hair dark and wavy as it fell just below his ears, and his cheekbones were high accentuating the slant of his nose. Regulus Black was beautiful, everything about him seemed to be placed just right and sculpted with the utmost care and attention.

He turned to you, your eyes meeting before he gave you an appraising look.

“Regulus.” His hand struck out, a rather rugged introduction.

Slowly, you took his hand in yours and proceeded to shake it. You couldn’t seem to rid yourself of the feeling that your hand was far too dirty, far too boring to be touching his, to even be near his.

“Y/n L/n, thank you- for that.” You were proud of yourself for not allowing your voice to shake.

“I’m sorry he was a bother.”

Regulus seemed to lack the ability of holding a conversation, he nodded- you assumed a goodbye- and got ready to make his way to the dorms.

“Wait,” Your voice came out before you could stop it. “You could stay, I’m almost done anyway. We could...talk.”

The suggestion had the boy's ears turning pink, his words coming out stuttered and jumbled, a stark contrast from the boy who had told off Barty so eloquently.

“If you- alright.”

You thought for a moment before speaking again, “You’re not very good at talking to people are you?”

“Excuse my blatant honesty, but you make me quite nervous.”

It was your turn to have your ears turn a soft hue of red, “I could say the same about you.”

5 April 1975

“Haven’t you got your own side of the blanket? Must you be so close to me?” You giggled, trying to roll away from Regulus while still avoiding the grass.

Regulus smiled, his eyes closing and nose scrunching in thought before he spoke, “I prefer to be close to you; making sure you won’t run out on me.”

Both of you began giggling, his head falling to nudge your shoulder. Ultimately, Regulus shuffled away from your side, allowing just about a foot of space in between your bodies. The wind rustled your hair as you turned your neck to look at the youngest Black as he sat up, his legs stretched and crossed at the ankles, arms propping himself up as his palms pressed flat against the floor.

It was no secret that Regulus was beautiful. His dark hair- now gently flowing in the cool breeze- stood out against his pale skin, freckles were dusted delicately over his aristocratic nose and sharp cheekbones. You could tell he’d never worked a day in his life with how handsome and soft his hands were. His fingers were long and slender, never dry or rough, and his nails perfectly trimmed and always clean.

Regulus Black was absolutely perfect and you were regretting ever complaining about his proximity.

You were quick to right your wrong, bashfully you raised yourself onto all fours and crawled over to your boyfriend. Regulus tried to hold in his smirk, avoiding turning to look at you directly but you could tell his resolve was breaking.

“Regulus…” You spoke his name with an innocent lilt, sitting back on your shins once you were close enough to have your knees touching his thigh.

He hummed, not giving you the satisfaction of having his full attention.

A huff of frustration fell past your lips at his stubbornness as you threw your leg over his thighs, straddling his legs just above his knees. His composure was thinning, a wide smile threatening to spread across his thin lips.

“You’re far too close,” he teased, his hand coming up as if trying to stop you from getting any closer. “I believe you are on my side of the blanket, L/n.”

“Don’t be so fickle, Black.”

Regulus’ pale blue eyes found yours, his delicate hand coming up to run across the delicate collar of your dress.

“It’s in my nature isn’t it?” His eyes held a certain sadness that you could not place, one you wouldn’t see again until a few years later.

Your lips parted to respond to him, only to be interrupted by a Hogwarts ghost floating nearby. It was a ghost neither you nor Regulus were familiar with and as she passed she mumbled something- rather spitefully- about young love. The event had your train of thought derailed, a quiet giggle erupting from your throat as the transparent, deceased woman floated on.

Regulus seemed to find the woman just as amusing as you did, his eyes crinkling with laughter as you two now looked at each other in fits of hysterics.

“Oh her poor soul!” You exclaimed, eyes looking off in the direction she had gone. “If you were a ghost, Reg, where would you haunt with your undead presence.”

His expression contorted into one of reminiscence, “Uncle Alphard’s cherry orchard just a few kilometers from Monts de Venasque. When we were little, Sirius and I would play in the trees. I could sit in those cherry trees for hours, everything just seemed to disappear. Alphard’s been burned off the tapestry since, but he’s left the property in my possession along with the small house on the land. I think if I were to choose one place to spend eternity, it would be there.”

You smiled softly at his answer.

“And you?” He asked, bringing you out of your lovesick haze.

“Me?” You chuckled. “I’d suppose my eternity would be well spent as long as I was somewhere with you.”

28 June 1976

It seemed the entirety of 12 Grimmauld Place shook with how hard Sirius had slammed the front door.

He was gone.

Completely and entirely gone.

And Regulus was completely and entirely alone now.

Regulus swiftly made his way up the stairs and to his room, just barely avoiding a collision with the poor house elf.

“Y/n’s room.” The words were spoken clearly and concisely as the floo powder fell from his shaky hands.

The time of night- 2:27 am- was of little importance to Regulus, he needed to see you.

You woke up with a jolt, the sound of someone stumbling into your room and panicked mumbling doing nothing to ease your nerves though the mop of dark curls had your heart calming down.

“Reg?”

He turned to look at you with heartbroken eyes, watery and bloodshot.

“He’s gone.” He choked out.

You kicked the blankets off yourself and stood up from your bed, bare feet hitting the cold floor.

Keeping a calm tone you slowly got closer to him, “Who’s gone, love?”

His pain was so evident, rolling off him in waves, “Sirius- he’s not coming back.”

“Oh,” You sighed, treading lightly. “I’m sur-”

“No!” He cried, “Burned off the tapestry, probably with the Potters- he’s gone an-and he left me with them.”

Regulus’ anguish, tear stained cheeks, had your own eyes welling with unshed tears. It was clear words would do nothing to calm him, instead you opted for pushing yourself into him and taking his crying form into your arms. His body seemed to give out as you held him, his tears soaking your shirt as he wailed into your neck.

Neither of you could tell how long you stood in the middle of your room seemingly holding him together, but his cries subsided into gentle whimpers and the occasional sniffle as his nose nudged the side of your neck.

His voice came out rough and strained, just barely above a whisper, “Please don’t- don’t leave me like Si- like he did.”

You could feel your heart shatter, “Wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”

“I don’t know how I would’ve survived in this mess if I had never known you.”

Your breath came out ragged as you spoke the truest words you've ever dared to speak, “My heart beats for you, Regulus.”

30 December 1979

His forearm itched.

It seemed to always have an odd itch ever since he was sixteen.

Regulus watched your form get closer, bundled in a thick overcoat and a dark blue scarf- Christmas present from himself- wrapped neatly around your neck. You were the picture of beauty, like a living doll with your soft smile and adoring eyes.

“My love.” You greeted him, leaning in to place a soft kiss against his cold cheek.

His eyes seemed distant, your only greeting a tight lipped smile.

Your eyebrows knit together, “Everything alright?”

Regulus nodded, his eyes swimming with a sadness so familiar, “Just taking you in.”

He pulled off his leather gloves, stuffing them deep in his coat pocket before reaching his hand out to hold your jaw, his thumb running across your skin. The action was comforting and you couldn’t help but close your eyes to savour the feeling of his thumb caressing your cheekbone.

You let out a small gasp when you felt him take your lips in a slow kiss. It was passionate, loving, yet there was a certain finality to it that had a shiver run up your spine in the most unpleasant way.

“I have the cruelest favor to ask of you, and I can only hope you’ll forgive me once I do.”

Your stomach dropped, “What do you mean, Regulus? What- what favor?”

“Please, try to understand-”

“What favor?”

“I couldn’t-”

“Tell me what the favor is, Regulus.”

Your voice had an edge to it that made him compose himself almost instantly.

He took a breath before speaking, his eyes looking off somewhere behind you as he spoke, “He’s getting stronger.”

You didn’t need to ask who this ‘he’ was, the tone made it very clear.

“He has these… horcruxes. Incredibly dark magic, I don't know how many but I know of one. It’s hidden and I’ve found out the location, I can destroy it I know I can but-”

His tone was hushed and your heart rate had started to pick up speed.

“But you don’t know if you’ll live to tell the tale?” You asked with a humorless laugh.

The look in Regulus’ eyes had told you, you were right.

“I can’t let him continue. If this could stop him, weaken him even, it’s worth whatever the consequence to myself may be.” He argued.

You pushed yourself further from him, “I can’t- I won’t lose you. No, there’s no way.”

His expression shifted into one of sorrow and pleading, “I have to.”

And you knew there was no changing his mind.

You bit the side of your lip anxiously, looking at the ground before asking, “And this favor?”

The heartbreak was almost palpable, his voice going raw.

“I cannot be fully prepared to do anything that is necessary to destroy this horcrux if-”

He cut himself off with an intake of breath.

“If I know you’ll be waiting for my return, if I know what I have to leave behind I may be tempted to not go through with my plan.”

You couldn’t help but feel and look horrified, “What are you asking of me, Regulus?”

He seemed to flinch at the tone of your voice, a tone you’d never used before and one he couldn’t name.

“I need you to obliviate yourself from my memory.”

It felt as though your chest had collapsed in on itself, “I-I couldn-”

“You have to!” Regulus cried, his arms gripping the sides of your face as you couldn’t help but let a choked sob escape from your lips. “It’s the only way I’ll be able to go through with it, I can't know that there’s a possibility of leaving you.”

“Please, Regulus, you can’t ask this of me.” You choked out, searching his eyes for some sort of humor, something that told you it was all a cruel joke.

He pressed his lips against your forehead, both of your eyes closing as you two took in short, ragged breaths.

Everything seemed darker. The flowers in the Black garden were cold and dead, the snow wasn’t snow at all, instead dangerous sheets of ice. It was then you realized the war, the death eaters, everything had become so real.

“There is a letter on your bed at home, I’ve settled everything for you. I’m going to stand against the pillar, my back to you, and you are going to do it from behind the hedges so we won’t see each other after. You need to leave once it’s done alright?”

You nodded solemnly, knowing there was no use in fighting it. The cause was bigger than you, bigger than Regulus. Everyone made sacrifices, this just had to be yours.

“My heart beats for you, Y/n, whether I know it or not.”

“And mine for you, Regulus.” You smiled sadly, pulling his wrist up to your face and pulling back his sleeve to reveal his dark mark, pressing a kiss to the skin you spoke, “You aren’t them, you never were and you never will be.”

Regulus smiled but said nothing as he lowered his arms and put his gloves back on. With slow steps he walked to the pillar and looked back at you one last time.

“I’m just taking you in.” He whispered, before slowly turning.

You took your wand from your coat as you took even slower steps to stand just far enough for him not to notice you after it had been done. Regulus felt his resolve crumble with each crunch of your boots against the frozen ground, his eyes screwed shut- tears rolling down his face freely- as he prepared for what was coming.

With a shaky hand you raised your wand.

“Obliviate.”

Present

Sirius seemed to be thrown back from the pensieve, as if the memory had rejected him from viewing any longer, still sensitive. He felt an odd tickling sensation run down his cheek, his hand raising to brush away a stray tear as he fell into a nearby chair.

He never knew…

***

You pushed open the backdoor of your small home, the warm scent of cherry trees welcoming you. The sun was just barely starting to set as you looked off into the horizon of the vast field of trees, if you looked long enough you could make out the handsome silhouette of a boy you once knew sitting up in a cherry tree.

Only a few short months later, the lone figure would be joined by another… a brother.

tags:

@amourtentiaa

@vsawyer1989

@lifeofkaze

@siriusement

@erinruby003

@maybesandohnos

@onlyfreds

@tayyx

#regulus black x reader #regulus black x y/n #regulus black blurb #regulus black imagine #regulus black x fem!reader #marauders era

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thusspoketrish · 3 years

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Showers in the Malfoy-Potter Household

Domestic, tooth-rotting, fluffy Married Drarry!!! Written for the prompt Fresh over at @drarrymicrofic. 2.3K words. Thank you to @curlyy-hair-dont-care for the thorough beta xx

I. That One Time with the Gloves…

“Bugger, I need to shower!” Harry shouts to the empty sitting room as he steps through the Floo, shoulders tense as he kicks off his muddy shoes, waving his wand to send them to the hamper and clearing the residual mess on his and Draco’s Brazilian Macchiato Pecan hardwood floors. On socked feet, Harry dashes up the stairs towards their ensuite, disrobing along the way as the charmed grandfather clock in the downstairs hallway strikes 14:00.

Any minute now, Draco will Floo back in from brunch with Narcissa and Lucius—the very brunch Harry said he couldn’t attend because he pulled Sunday rotation at the Ministry. In truth, he had actually signed up for THE GREATEST WEEKEND QUIDDITCH MATCH EVER!!! between the Department of Mysteries and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Harry had been surprised to learn that the DoM swots were a bunch of dirty playing wankers—their self-important swagger causing a stir on the ground and a gloriously brutal match in the air. Harry’s pretty sure he bruised his ribs when he struck the muddy ground at the end of the match. But even with his injury, Harry couldn’t help the wicked grin that crossed his face when Timmons, the DoM’s Seeker, watched in horror as Harry staggered to his feet, punching his Snitch-full fist triumphantly into the air.

The glory. The power. Harry feels like a warrior—he feels like a bloody beast!

The little white lie and a skipped brunch with the in-laws were worth it!

Once in the bathroom, Harry uses his wand to send his scattered muddy clothes to the hamper downstairs and turns the water on scorching hot. Stepping under the spray, his sore muscles relax. It’s absolutely blissful, and he can’t help the happy moans that escape him as the water sluices away the mud and sweat from his highly earned, brutal win. He chuckles darkly to himself. Those wankers from the DoM will be sucking on this one for months to come.

The shower curtain is pulled to the side, starling Harry so badly that he nearly slips, his head whipping around to face his smirking husband.

Draco sticks his head into the shower, making sure to avoid the stream, his eyes flashing. “Well, well, well. Look who’s getting so fresh and so clean after a hard day’s work.”

Harry huffs, covering his nipples with both hands as he says, scandalised, “Merlin! You scared the bloody hell out of me!”

“I’m sorry,” Draco says, sounding far from it. “I was so eager to see my husband after a lengthy morning away from him that all I could think about coming up the stairs was giving him the best shower blowie he’s ever had in his entire life…”

Harry grins. “Babe, I’ve missed you so much,” he says eagerly, stepping back under the spray. “Come on, get undressed and join me.” When Draco doesn’t move, Harry gestures inward. “Come on...come now…”

“Yeah, okay. Let me just…” Draco pulls from behind his back Harry’s dirty Quidditch gloves, dropping them into the shower as Harry gasps. The fresh dirt mingles with the water, swirling down the drain. Harry could’ve sworn he sent those gloves flying into the hamper.

Draco’s smile is shark-like, eager, and ready for blood. “Imagine my surprise when these came flying into my chest on my way up the stairs. I was so curious, I decided to have a quick search of the laundry room hamper, and lo and behold, I found all of your Quidditch gear, sweaty and smelling of fresh mud and grass, darling. Must’ve been one hell of a rotation this morning, huh?”

Harry holds up his hands. “I can explain—”

“Oh, really?”

“Er, yes…” Harry starts, running a hand through his soaked hair. “Babe, it’s those wankers from the DoM’s fault! They’re a bunch of posturing arseholes and someone had to put them in their place.”

Draco crosses his arms against his chest. “Ah, right. And that someone had to be you?”

Harry smiles sheepishly, shrugging. “Well…you know I’m the best Seeker in the Corps.”

Draco harrumphs, tilting his chin up and leaning against the wall next to the shower. “So, you know what this means, right?”

Harry bows his head. “Yeah…” he says sadly, shaking his head.

“What?”

Harry sighs. “No more Mimosa Sundays at Malfoy Manor?” he asks hopefully, peeking up at Draco through his wet, shaggy hair.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You know the mimosas at my parents' are bar none.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know…so, no blowie for me?”

“You’re damn right,” Draco says, yanking his head back and sharply pulling the shower curtain shut.

Harry grumbles to himself, turning back to the shower to rinse his hair. A minute or two passes before the shower curtain opens up again, a fully naked Draco stepping inside.

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t start grovelling the proper way: by sucking my cock,” Draco says with a smirk.

Harry laughs, wrapping his arms around Draco’s waist. “How did I land such a deeply compassionate, forgiving husband?”

“With that sinful mouth of yours, obviously,” Draco drawls, placing his hands on Harry’s shoulders to slowly push him down onto his knees.

II. That One Time Draco Was Trying to be Seductive...

Harry’s entering their bedroom, half an egg mayo sandwich in hand, when he notices Draco standing before the wardrobe mirror. “What are you doing?” he asks, pausing near the door.

Draco turns around, his arms spreading wide as he pops one narrow hip outward. He’s draped in an intricate floral-patterned gold bathrobe. “Do you like it? It’s new, darling. Just arrived from Italy. Rocco-inspired, heavy-weight close-knit silk lined with black satin…isn’t it gorgeous?” Draco purrs.

“Er…it’s quite something,” Harry says, biting into his sandwich.

“Neanderthal,” Draco tuts with a scowl before turning back to the mirror. He slides his hands reverently down the sides of his body as he tilts his head to the side. “It feels like fucking sex,” Draco whispers, his eyelids drooping.

Harry chokes on a bit of egg. Draco grins, ferally, as he faces Harry again.

“I have a surprise for you. Get undressed and meet me in the bathroom,” Draco says imperiously.

“Right now?” Harry asks around his sandwich, his eyebrows shooting up towards his hairline. “Why?”

Draco runs his hands down the front of his bathrobe, his eyes fluttering shut. “The things I’m going to do to you the moment you slip this robe off my body…”

That’s all Harry needs to hear as he sets his sandwich down on the nightstand to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor before levelling Draco with a heated stare and a wolfish grin. “Is that right? Well, go on, then. I’ll meet you there in a minute,” Harry says, now unbuttoning his trousers. When Draco heads towards the bathroom, Harry picks his sandwich back up and shoves the rest of it in his mouth before getting undressed.

When he’s fully naked, he opens the bathroom door, the entire room filled with fragrant steam so thick he can barely see Draco.

“Er?” Harry says, stepping into the bathroom. Draco stumbles forward, wand in hand.

“I think I may have overdone the steam a bit,” Draco says before promptly pitching forward. Harry misses him by just an inch because he can’t bloody see, and Draco lands face first on their tiled floor.

“I thought it would be sexy,” Draco whines from his position on the floor in Harry’s lap after Harry Rennervates him. There’s a red patch on his forehead and a trickle of blood coming out of his left nostril that Harry cleans up immediately.

“You were! You were so sexy,” Harry urges softly.

“But there was no arse groping. No kissing. No fucking. It was all so unpleasant!” Draco cries.

“Aw, babe. I’m sorry. I think we should take you to St Mungo’s just in case…”

Draco sighs, sitting up but swaying slightly. “Fine. Alright. But let’s not tell them the visit is due to my failed attempt at seduction.”

Harry stifles a laugh. “Of course not. C’mere,” he says, helping Draco to his feet. “You can seduce me after the Healer has ruled out a concussion, okay?”

“Okay. But only if you promise to take my new bathrobe off with your teeth later…”

III. That One Time with the Mongrel…

Draco’s writing out a pros and cons list to determine if they’ll be purchasing a cottage in Cornwall this summer when Harry appears in front of him, a black towel cradled against his chest that’s moving.

Draco quirks an eyebrow. “What in the fresh hell is wrong with that towel?”

Harry chuckles and pulls the towel back. Pressed against his chest is a tiny, muddy little Beagle.

“No,” Draco says firmly, setting his quill down.

“Wait! Don’t be so quick about it! C’mon, babe, she was all alone in the alley by the Ministry! No mum or dad in sight. I couldn’t leave her there!”

Draco closes his eyes against the utterly heartbroken look in Harry’s eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Of course, Harry would bring home an orphan, Draco had been preparing himself for this day since they married four years ago, only, he thought said orphan would be a wee babe, not a filthy mongrel. He exhales, nods, and opens his eyes, hand dropping away from his face. “Okay. Well. I refuse to have this mongrel in our house looking and smelling the way it does.”

Harry’s face lights up as if Draco has promised him the moon, and the stars, and all the love in his entire being. All over again.

“So, can we keep her?” Harry asks excitedly.

“Yes, Harry. We can keep her.”

Harry surges forward to press a kiss against Draco’s mouth, taking Draco off guard but aiming perfectly, nonetheless. Draco can’t help the laugh that bubbles up his throat as Harry begins to litter kisses all over his face, the mongrel caught between them. “You’re going to love her, I promise. Just look at her! She’s bloody adorable, isn’t she?” Harry says, holding the beast out to Draco.

Draco’s nose scrunches up as the dark-eyed creature stares up at him. She’s so small she could fit in Draco’s cupped hands, but her smell is atrocious. “Sure…” Draco says slowly, leaning away.

Harry hums happily. “I think we should name her—”

“—Beasty,” Draco interrupts, gaze flickering up to Harry. Harry rolls his eyes.

“No, silly! We should name her Pepper. Because she sorta smells like black pepper.”

Draco wants to suggest to Harry that perhaps they need to visit St Mungo’s to get his nose examined, because the last time Draco checked, black pepper smelled absolutely nothing like faeces. But he refrains, the joyous look on Harry’s face well worth going along with the madness.

“Sure, darling, whatever you want. Pepper it is. But she’s going to need a bath.”

Harry nods. “Right, yes, let’s take her upstairs to our bathroom.”

Draco smiles tightly. “Ah, no. I just had that tub put in. I don’t want this mong—Pepper staining the porcelain.”

“Oh, right, right. Okay, well, we can bathe her in the tub down here.”

Draco links his fingers together over his list. “Yes, excellent idea. So,” he starts, eyeing the now droopy-eyed, stinky monster. “Should we use a Petrificus Totalus or—?”

“DRACO!” Harry gasps, looking completely horrified. “We can’t put Pepper in a full body bind, are you insane? She’s a puppy!”

Draco frowns, his eyebrows knitting together. “She’s covered in grime and you expect me to manoeuvre this beast into the tub with its full cooperation?”

Harry glares at him. “She’s the sweetest thing, and I’m sure we won’t have any problems getting her into the bath, okay? Just follow my lead.”

Draco shrugs. Harry hasn’t led him astray yet.

When they finally enter the downstairs bathroom, tub now full of water at the perfect temperature and a mild soap, Draco suddenly gets an armful of Pepper as Harry begins to shed his jacket and jumper.

Draco stares down at her.

She is quite cute, with her large, bulbous black eyes, long, floppy ears, and wee-frowny mouth. Draco believes he can actually come to love this gross little beasty.

“Let’s get you all fresh and clean, sweetie,” Harry says, taking her back from Draco to place her in the water.

That’s when all hell breaks loose.

As Harry struggles to keep a hold on her, Pepper lifts her paws away from the water as if it’s fire, wild yelps escaping her as she struggles out of Harry’s grasp, dropping into the water first before lunging straight at Draco.

Draco catches her, her tiny little body soaking through his very nice, very clean jumper.

“Fucking fuck, fuck…” Draco mutters, staring down at Pepper, warmth exploding in his chest. She’s shivering against him and the anger and shock immediately leave his body as he cradles her, a defeated groan escaping him as a section of his heart unlocks and opens up to this little beasty.

Harry laughs. “Merlin, you are just so bloody adorable,” he says.

Draco scoffs, even as he stares down fondly at her, rocking her in his arms. “She’s a menace, that’s what she is.”

“No…I mean you,” Harry says, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses, cheeks dimpled. Draco can feel the heat of a blush spilling across his cheeks as Harry leans forward to kiss him. When they part, Harry glances down at Pepper before meeting Draco’s eyes.

“We’re building our little family,” Harry says proudly.

Draco opens his mouth to say something mocking, but can’t, not with the ball of emotion that’s suddenly lodged in his throat. Instead, he blinks several times, glancing down at Pepper who’s staring up at him with her large eyes, tail wagging.

“Oh,” Draco says softly. “I suppose we are.” He sniffs. “I think it’s best if we get Beasty Pepper to the vet instead, maybe they can help us give her a proper bath. Shall we?”

Draco smiles as Harry drapes an arm around his shoulders. “Yes, let’s do it, babe,” Harry responds tenderly.

#drarrymicrofic #Drarry Microfic #Drarry fic #Harry Potter #Draco Malfoy #Drarry #Drarry Squad #short fic #fluff #so much fluff #established relationship #harry x draco #married drarry #All fluff and zero pain #which I'm finna embrace as my new normal #hahahaha

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loving-daisy · 3 years

Text

Cry For Me | George Weasley x Reader

Masterlist | Cry For Me Masterlist

Chapter 9 - Fool

Words: 6.8k

Warnings: nothing much; fluff and angst

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

I made a fool of myself

____________________

Much to Y/N Icestone’s dismay, her request to Draco; Draco’s request to his father; Draco’s father’s request to Professor Snape didn’t last long. After the official split of the controversial Gryffindor-Slytherin couple, Y/N let all the emotions flow. Months of bottled-up feelings freely flowing.

Hatred, mostly.

The girl just couldn’t stand to see or even get a tiny little glimpse at the boy who captured her heart, held it carelessly, and smashed it into pieces. The mere thought of him even enraged her. Hating the fact that she was so gullible to believe that someone truly liked her because of her and her alone. Not the titles, the money, or the power that she came with.

But as the saying goes, when one door closes, another one opens. Sure, her relationship with the Weasley had a very unfortunate ending but at least another story went on - her friendship with Draco Malfoy. And Draco, being the good friend he is, decided to help her.

Even if all the blonde Slytherin did was send an owl to his father, it did help a lot, truly. 2 weeks being George-Weasley-free during potions class. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, as the individual potions’ work eventually dissolved as they had to work by pair again.

“This next potion you’re about to brew is much more difficult than the last.” Professor Snape informed the class. “Truth be told, I’d still prefer everyone to work individually.”

Honestly, there’s not a potion that Y/N Icestone can’t brew perfectly. Sure, there could be some difficult ones but the girl is always up for the challenge. Working alone versus working with a pair didn’t really have that much difference. She firmly believed that she’d do well even without a partner. I mean, the girl basically proved herself in the last 2 weeks.

“But due to a lot of errors and mishaps, I’m gonna allow you to work in pairs. Your partner will be your previous partner. Now, get to work!” Snape ordered with a scowl, grasping his black robes as he started to walk around the classroom.

I should’ve just asked my Father. Too bad he never got close with Snape. Too bad Draco’s not here. The Slytherin thought, letting out a huff before making her way towards her previous table - the one she shared with the boy she’s trying to avoid.

____________________

As the Slytherin sat on top of the stool beside the desk where their bubbling cauldron was placed, she couldn’t help but send a look towards Daphne who was putting ingredients into their cauldron.

Sensing Icestone’s look, Greengrass’ attention diverted to her best friend, raising a brow as if asking “what’s wrong?”. Y/N rested her elbow on top of the desk, placing her chin on her palm, pouting.

Daphne let out a small chuckle, shaking her head from left to right. But just before she was about to mouth a few sentences towards the sour-mood Icestone, the shocked look on her best friend’s face stopped her in her tracks.

Professor Snape immediately waltzes towards Icestone and Weasley’s shared desk, crossing his arms as he towered over the ginger with a scowl. “Mr. Weasley, I know that you have a knack for making stuff explode but for the love of Salazar, stop practicing the nonsense in this class. Have you not learned your lesson from the past week?” He let out, tone full of disappointment.

“As expected from a Gryffindor. You just lost your house 10 points.” Snape continued before reaching out for his wand, making the mess disappear.

“Detention, Mr. Weasley.” The potion’s master ordered before turning his heels to walk away.

Before the Slytherin was able to open her mouth and make a snide remark, Professor Snape looked back, eyes burning holes at the girl’s forehead. “You too, Ms. Icestone.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped in disbelief. It’s not like any of the mess was her fault. It was all Weasley’s! All she had to do was prepare all the ingredients and line them up in order for the ginger to put it in so what’s bubbling in the cauldron was definitely not under her control. The girl firmly believed that she should have gotten detention for actually doing her part right. “But professor-”

“Not another word.”

Great. So much for avoiding George Weasley.

____________________

Later that day, Y/N Icestone found herself walking out of the Great hall to go straight towards the dungeons. But not towards the Slytherin common room. Rather, towards the potion’s master’s classroom. To serve detention.

Truthfully, the girl didn’t know what it was like to serve detention under Snape’s name. Was it harsh like what other students claimed it to be or were people just over exaggerating?

But come to think of it, Y/N Icestone didn’t know what it was like to serve detention under any other professor’s name. She has never gotten herself into detention anyways. If it wasn’t for the Gryffindor, she wouldn’t have even been here. She would’ve kept her record clean!

Fortunately for the girl, Professor Snape’s favoritism towards the students under Slytherin was true. The reason? Well, the only reason why Icestone got detention is so that someone could keep an eye on every other pupil who got detention as they manually scrub all the dirty cauldrons. The potion’s professor simply told the girl that he had important business to attend to and so he’s entrusting detention towards her.

Additionally, he promised that Icestone’s record would still be clean and that he’s adding 10 points to Slytherin for the girl to help him. Unfortunately for the girl, no other pupil was serving detention under Snape but George Weasley himself.

Oh how Y/N Icestone wished that there was another unfortunate student who messed up in Snape’s class today.

25 minutes into detention, the Slytherin was starting to get bored. After all, she too wasn’t allowed to use her wand. But hers was kept inside her pocket either way; Kept inside her robes with the ginger’s.

But still, despite having the privilege of just sitting there and not scrubbing dirty cauldrons, her rage towards the ginger didn’t disappear. No matter what angle you look at it, she still wouldn’t be here if the Gryffindor didn’t mess up.

The Slytherin huffed in boredom, piercing her cold eyes towards the boy.

“I hope you’re aware of how much I despise you right now.” Y/N spat, deciding to break the silence inside the classroom.

“I’m sorry.” The ginger murmured, trying to scrub the cauldron he was holding a little faster. “I’ll try to work faster. There are about 12 cauldrons left.” George informed.

Y/N hatred flowed freely, yes. But no, it couldn’t last for so long. Not when George Weasley makes it so hard for her to hate him. Why was the boy so nice?

You look happier. She recalled. It was all bullsh-.

“What happened anyway? Didn’t I line up all the prepared ingredients for you on the table? Didn’t you follow what the book said?” The girl questioned, hoping to at least get a decent explanation from the ginger on why their potion was suddenly messed up.

The last time George messed up his potion was because of someone else tampering with it. But since the partner system in Snape’s class was administered again, Y/N doubted that it was another work of her housemate because even if George was their target, Y/N would be included in that target because they were...well, partners.

And the girl knew that no one dared to mess with her.

“I’m sorry.” George repeated. Refusing to look at the Slytherin, his attention was still mainly towards the cauldron.

This time, Icestone was now really annoyed. “Is ‘I’m sorry’ the only words you know how to speak of?” she grunted, rolling her eyes.

“Sorry-, I mean, I’ll do better in the future, I promise.” replied George.

“If there is a future.” The girl murmured, huffing.

The boy didn’t know what she meant but he decided to just ignore it and get to work.

____________________

“Where have you been?” The Malfoy heir questioned after standing from his seat to walk towards the Icestone heir.

“Draco? What are you still doing here? It’s late.” The girl pointed out, moving past the boy to sit on one of the leather couches located inside the common room.

“Hey, I asked you first!” The blonde complained, following the 6th year and sitting beside her.

By now, the cold room located under the black lake was quiet, seeing that it’s already late at night and there were classes tomorrow. The only people present were Icestone, Malfoy, a few students from year 7 studying, and the prefect who decided to stop by and organize the announcement board.

Y/N leaned her head on the seat, sighing before closing her eyes. “I was monitoring Professor Snape’s detention class.” She informed with annoyance not towards the blonde, but towards the task.

“You? Why you?” asked Draco.

The girl turned to face the curious boy, eyes staring at his confused ones. “Well, he did say that he had some important business to attend to.”

The blonde furrowed his brows, still not satisfied with the answer. “Okay, but why you? It could have been the prefect or whatever.”

The girl let out another sigh. “Because stupid George Weasley was my partner in potions and he messed up so Snape decided to include me in his suffering. Thankfully, I didn’t do any scrubbing. My nails would have sucked!”

“Partner?! I thought you guys worked individually now? Didn’t my father...”

“Yeah...but apparently, there are too many dunderheads in the class so…” The girl said, rolling her eyes before shrugging.

“Why’d you wait for me? Didn’t you say you had a test on Defense today?” She asked to divert the topic away.

“Well…”

“Yes?” Y/N urged, anticipating as she examined the boy’s look. Draco’s usually perfectly styled hair was no more as he wore his uniform trousers and a plain white shirt.

The Malfoy heir let out a small and shy smile. “I wanted to give you something.”

Icestone stood straight, both hands held out towards Malfoy as she waited for him to give her whatever it was that he was planning to give.

“Is it chocolate chip cookies? It better be chocolate chip cookies.” She commented with a grin, her eyes sparkling at the thought of her favorite sweet.

Draco chuckled at her actions. “Close your eyes.” He instructed before fetching the object inside his pocket.

Y/N felt the boy’s warm hands go over hers, feeling jewelry being put on her wrist. In the absence of the warm feeling of Draco’s hands, the girl opened her eyes, the grin on her face never faltering.

Taking a look at her right hand, there it was, clasped on top of the Slytherin’s wrist, a silver chain bracelet with diamonds and emeralds resting beside each other.

Her eyes made contact with the blonde’s gray ones, shock and slight confusion on her head. “What’s this? I don’t recall that it’s going to be my birthday soon.” She playfully asked.

Draco grinned, eyes turning towards his own wrist. “Do you like it? It’s a family heirloom but I had it customized to give it a little bit more style that suited both of us. Diamonds for Icestone and Emeralds for Malfoy.” Draco explained as he lifted his own wrist, a similar bracelet placed on top of it.

“Do I like it? No, I actually love it very much. It’s gorgeous.” Y/N stated, earning an even bigger grin from the blonde.

“Thank you, Draco.” the girl thanked, engulfing the blonde into a big hug.

Green apples and peppermint. That’s what Draco Malfoy smelled like. Y/N Icestone thought the scent made her feel nostalgic about her own childhood. After every tutoring session with Mr. Princeton, the fairy that she had back then would bring her some sliced green apples and tea. Specifically, it would be peppermint tea if it was the cold season.

The girl didn’t know why she suddenly thought of her childhood. Maybe it was because of the way things are now. Maybe it was because she wanted to go back to the old days. Maybe it was because the boy on her arms made her day 100% better or maybe it was a sign. She is yet to find out.

“So, where’s my chocolate chip cookies?”

____________________

Oh, thank Draco Lucius Malfoy for making THAT one day a little bit better.

Ever since last week’s potions class and the detention that followed, the days passed by quickly. Sure, there was still a little tension whenever Gryffindor and Slytherin shared classes but slowly and surely, Y/N Icestone was starting to let go of it.

There’s no point in dwelling in the past. Lixie once told her. Additionally, her hatred doesn’t even last long. Not when the ginger makes it so hard. Hatred will bring you nothing, anyways.

It’s been two months since the Icestone heir sent that enchanted letter declaring how she was the one playing with the ginger. Meaning, two whole months have passed ever since the controversial couple split up.

Truthfully, the time the Slytherin spent thinking about where she went wrong, what went wrong, and what lacked in her rarely came anymore. Back then, when she’d be idle and alone, she’d stare at nothing and suddenly cry due to her mean thoughts. Now, Y/N Icestone knew her worth, and turns out, she was too much for George. She was too good for him. Daphne and Draco made sure she knew that.

However, even if months have passed ever since her relationship with the Gryffindor, both Icestone and Weasley were having a hard time.

After being convinced that there’d be no way the ex-lovers would communicate seriously for final closure, both parties tried to bury their feelings deep inside them. But putting too much stuff inside a bottle will burst it open.

“What did you want once it was all over, George?” Icestone quietly spat, trying hard not to divert the other people’s attention towards them.

Today was the day where the week’s potions class happened. It was annoying for Icestone, really.

Come to think of it, Y/N Icestone loved potions. She even wanted to practice a career centered in potions someday. But this class? She hates it. She used to love it but now she hates it and ironically, the same reason why she loved it and hated it now was the same - being partners with George Weasley.

One minute they were quietly working on the contents of their cauldron and the next they were confronting each other about their previous relationship.

“...”

The Slytherin sighed, dropping her hands beside her before putting a palm on her forehead. “I’m a fool!” She declared, disappointed laced all over her voice.

The girl let out another sigh before continuing. “I was so bloody stupid for thinking that you were different. I’m a fool for believing that you love me. I’m such a fool! I was never like this before. How did you make me become such a fool for you?”

“But did you?” Asked George, expression with a little bit of curiosity and unknown hope as his brown eyes pierced into the girl’s glassy ones.

“Did I do what?”

It was only then when the boy started to feel a bit embarrassed about the thought of telling the girl in front of him what he wanted to say out loud. Despite being embarrassed, George was never raised to be a coward. He was sorted into Gryffindor after all.

“Did you love me?”

The girl felt her breath hitch, flustered by the boy’s question.

Y/N contemplated for a few moments before giving out her answer.

The question merely required a “yes” or “no” as an answer but oh how it made it seem like it was the hardest question to answer right now. If the girl answered “yes”, then what would that make her? She’d be the gullible girl George Weasley played with! But if she answered “no”, then she’d be lying. Oh, how she hated lying.

So instead of giving a direct answer, she asked back. “Did you?”

One side of George’s lips curved, his expression a smirk but mischief absent. “I asked first.”

He pointed out. “I said, did you?” The Slytherin pressed on, waiting.

Truthfully, the girl didn’t know what answer she should expect. She didn’t know how to react when she hears the boy’s answer. Is she really ready to know whether the Gryffindor truly loved her or not?

“Never.” George mumbled, turning his attention back towards their brewing potion.

Icestone’s jaw dropped, shocked by the ginger’s declaration. Thankfully, her heart didn’t fall into her stomach. No, it didn’t hurt at all. Why? Because the girl knew better.

“This is going to be the last time you’re ever going to lie in front of my face, Weasley.” She hissed before grabbing a vial to put in their brewed potion and gathering all of her belongings to leave the room.

“Never did I not.” The Gryffindor continued, sighing nobody but himself.

____________________

Two weeks after the confrontational outburst regarding Icestone and Weasley’s past relationship, the girl finally became fed up with the sight of George.

Things just didn't go right for her when it was time for potions class. Mainly because her ex boyfriend was her partner. They just simply couldn’t get along.

She was tired. For Merlin’s sake, all she wanted was a peaceful year and good grades but the ginger was hindering both of that for her.

“Professor, can’t I change my partner? Daphne Greengrass and her partner gave me their permission to switch too!” Icestone convinced the potions master.

The dark eyes of the professor bored itself on the face of the Slytherin. “Can you tell me, Ms. Icestone. Why do you have the need to change your partner? Didn’t I make myself clear at the start of the year that whoever you choose will be permanent?” Answered Snape.

“I don’t think Weasley is a good partner, sir. Look what happened last time, Professor. I don’t want to fail this class and if he continues to be my partner, he might drag me down with him!”

Snape’s lips curled into an unamused smirk. “That’s not my problem anymore, Ms. Icestone. You’re smart. You do something about it.”

At least Y/N tried.

“Listen.” The Slytherin called out, making the Gryffindor face her with a nervous look.

The girl’s arms were crossed, an annoyed but compromising expression plastered all over her face as she stared at the boy’s eyes.

If present Y/N Icestone was to tell past Y/N Icestone how she would be the first one to let her pride down towards George Weasley, she probably wouldn’t believe her.

But it must be done. Because there is no way that the Y/N Icestone is going to fail potions just because of a boy.

“If we’re going to force ourselves to work together for Potions, then we have to at least be on speaking terms with each other.” Icestone began, earning a small nod from George.

“We need proper communication, okay?” She continued, earning another nod.

Y/N nodded at George’s acknowledging nod. “So how about we figure this out and start again?” She offered.

“Yes, I would like that very much. Thank you.” The Gryffindor carefully began, sneaking a look at the girl’s expression before continuing.

“And, I’m sorry. For everything. For ruining our potions the last weeks and for dragging you to detention with me. I didn’t mean it, I swear! It was just an accident.” George reasoned, rambling in the middle of his explanation.

The girl merely nodded to show how she was listening to every word. “So, friends?” asked George as he offered a hand towards the girl.

Icestone’s cold eyes burned holes at the back of the boy’s hand, contemplating whether to shake it or not.

Truthfully, the girl’s objective was to make them go in speaking terms again. They didn’t have to be friends, really. They just needed to communicate in potions class so that her grade doesn’t descend even further.

Also, Icestone was not sure what being friends with George Weasley would bring her. Would it bring her the peace that she wanted? Or would it just mess up her head even more? What would be the consequences of shaking the ginger’s big warm hand? Was she prepared for those consequences?

But nonetheless, the girl took the risk of compromising. She really wanted the good grades. “Friends.”

____________________

Turns out being friends with George Weasley didn’t give any harm towards Y/N Icestone. In fact, it felt like a breath of fresh air.

No, it wasn’t as if their previous midnight escapades at the astronomy tower resumed. It wasn’t as if they’d greet each other whenever they passed by each other. And no, it wasn’t as if they spent some time in the library to study. No, nothing was like that.

Their interaction remained inside the potion’s classroom. And it was refreshing, really. Y/N Icestone didn’t have to dread attending the class anymore. She finally had proper teamwork with her partner and her grades were starting to stabilize once again.

Additionally, everyone always tried to be an insider towards the girl’s life. And truthfully? The girl didn’t want another set of rumors about herself and the Gryffindor rekindling their love or some other type of rubbish flying around the school.

“Wanna know a secret?” George suddenly asks, making Y/N steal a quick glance at him.

“Sure.” She muttered, resuming her work on squeezing the juice out of the beetle for today’s potion work.

“The first task involves dragons.” The ginger whispered, looking proud at himself.

“Dragons?! What are they gonna do with them? Fight them?” The girl asked, shocked.

“Yup.”

“But...isn’t that dangerous?”

George gave her a nod. “It is. The Triwizard tournament involves 3 extremely dangerous tasks anyways.”

Aside from the information about the Triwizard tournament, the Slytherin was rather amazed at how the Gryffindor got the information.

“You really have a way around things, don’t you? How did you find out anyway?” Asked Y/N.

“My older brother, Charlie, brought them here. He works with dragons.”

However, even if Icestone and Weasley’s friendship remained during potions, the Slytherin was not free from her best friend’s concerned interrogation.

“What’s up with you and Weasley?” Daphne suddenly asks one night when the two were preparing to go to bed.

“We’re friends, I guess.” Answered Y/N.

The raven-haired girl sat on her bed, moving towards Icestone’s to lay down beside her, facing her.

“You can’t be just friends with your ex-boyfriend!” She exclaimed, earning a raised brow.

“Why not?”

“Well, because he’s your ex!” Daphne said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Icestone chuckled, placing a hand on top of the Greengrass. “Relax, Daph! It wasn’t like...anything in our previous relationship was real.”

“But you felt real emotions, didn’t you?”

“Well, that was on me!” Y/N reasoned. “It’s not like I have feelings for him, anymore.”

Instead of getting a verbal response from Daphne, all Y/N received was an unamused look.

“Okay, maybe I do but I’m trying to move on! Like I said Daphne, what we used to be will never be again. We’re just not...compatible.”

Icestone’s best friend’s lips curled into a smirk.

“You know, I read something in a magazine before. You can’t be just friends with your ex. Or, you can be friends but that only means that one still likes the other.”

“Well, the one who likes the other is definitely not me.” Y/N denied.

Daphne gave her a raised brow. “Then it’s Weasley?”

“No! I don’t even know if he really did like me. Even if he did, I like to think that he didn’t. The thought makes it easier to move on. Besides, all those are behind us now. Right now, we’re just friends. Really.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt again, Y/N.”

“I won't, Daph. I won’t.”

____________________

Meanwhile, inside Fred and George’s shared dorm with their best friend, Lee, who was actually nowhere to be seen.

“So you’re telling me...you and Icestone are back to being friends?” The older twin tried to confirm, not really impressed with the idea.

George answered with a nod and a short “yeah.”, earning a raised brow from his twin.

“Why are you back to being friends? That’s impossible!” Fred exclaimed, shaking his head as he paced around the room.

“Why can’t we be friends? I think being friends is much better than being strangers. It gives us peace, you know? We don’t really fight during potions anymore.” The younger ginger reasoned.

“Peace?!” Fred repeated. “Be honest with me, Georgie. Are you really at peace? Is your heart at peace? I know you know that you can’t be just friends with your ex!”

Fred’s words started to sync into George’s mind. Was he really at peace after all the chaos that has happened in the past few months? Was he really at peace after being friends with Y/N Icestone despite still having real and genuine feelings for her? Was he really at peace even if answers to his questions were not being handed to him? Even if there was still no closure between them?

But then again, being friends with the girl than being enemies was much better, right? At least he still saw her. At least he still talked to her.

Is that enough?

“You know what, Fred? I can’t be just friends with Y/N Icestone.” The younger ginger declared, standing up from his bed.

“I want her back, Freddie. But I don’t know what to do. What should I do?” He continued.

The older ginger gave him a wide grin, patting his back. “Dear, dear, George. How about a plan b?”

“Plan b?”

Fred nodded. “Yeah, plan b. B that stands for ‘boy I realized that I can’t live without you and that you’re the one that I want so please take me back’”

“That’s such a long name.” Grunted George, shaking his head from left to right.

“Oh, no need to be intimidated by it. I can guarantee you that this is 100% going to work.” Fred assured his twin as a million thoughts flooded his mind, one by one constructing a blueprint inside his head to help his brother.

George sighed, unsure as the look of his worn-out pajamas came into his view. “I don’t know, Fred. The last time you and I made a plan that involved Y/N Icestone, it broke my heart. It broke her heart!”

“That is why we’re gonna mend it back!” Fred said enthusiastically.

“How?” asked the younger ginger with uncertainty.

Suddenly, George found himself alone in their dorm after Fred came running out and towards the common room.

“Angelina!” George heard Fred call. Shaking his head afterward with the thought: how is Angelina going to help with me getting back Y/N Icestone? Fred will probably just flirt with her all throughout.

“What do you want, Fred?” Huffed Angelina, annoyed at the look of a wide-grinned Fred because it could only mean one thing; mischief.

“You in?” He asked without any other context, earning a confused Gryffindor chaser. However, the expression on the boy’s face didn’t falter.

After a few moments of silence, the girl eventually understood what the tall ginger was pertaining to. They did talk about it previously anyway.

This time, it was Angelina’s turn to call somebody. “Alicia!” The other Gryffindor chaser stood from her seat, excusing herself from the study group she currently was in before approaching her teammates. “Angie, you called?”

The dark-skinned girl turned to look at her, her expression the same with the boy; a wide grin.

“You know that one time when you told me that you owe me because I covered you up from McGonagall for sneaking into the Ravenclaw tower that one night?”

“Yes…”“Well, now’s the time to pay it back.”

Fear started to spread in Alicia Spinnet’s eyes. “I don’t think I like where this is going…” she remarked.

“Well, there’s nothing you can do about it.”

____________________

The next Monday morning, as Y/N Icestone made her way towards the Great hall, alone (for the reason that Daphne just had the habit of waking up much earlier than her to do all her morning rituals before starting the day), the Slytherin noticed how students of different houses passed on information with each other like it was their form of the morning paper.

Typical. The Slytherin thought.

But she wouldn’t lie, she too, was curious about what baseless rumors are being passed around this week. Last week, it was how Harry Potter would probably lose the first round in the first task for the Triwizard tournament. Draco even made it worse for the boy who lived by making his goons hand out pins that state “Potter Stinks”. Y/N thought it was childish but boys will be boys.

What even made her curious is the way people stared at her, looking at her up and down as if she was a piece of meat.

I mean, she was used to people keeping an eye on her, she did have a good sense of fashion and her presence alone demanded attention, but something was different for today. Why? Because as people gossiped, they were looking at her.

“What’s everyone gossiping about these days?” Y/N asked her cat, Lixie, who she was carrying in her arms.

“Would you really like to know?” The cat replied, still feeling sleepy.

“That’s why I asked, didn’t I?”

Lixie yawned, kneading his paws. “Seems like Weasley got himself a new girlfriend.”

“Fred and Angelina became official?!” The girl asked, shocked.

“No.”

“Ron and...some girl from Gryffindor?” The girl asked, unsure.

“No!” The cat hissed, clearly getting annoyed at the girl’s obliviousness. “It’s George, Y/N.”

“Oh.” Icestone let out.

I guess Lixie’s response gave her the understanding as to why people were staring at her. The gossip was about her ex-boyfriend.

Surprisingly, she didn’t feel anything negative from the information. It was better than she expected. She didn’t feel blue, hatred, or any remorse at all. Although she felt a little annoyed at how the people still associated her with the Gryffindor.

“Who is it then?” she pondered.

No matter who she thought it was, none of them really matched George. But maybe it was someone she didn’t know. After all, there were a lot of students from Gryffindor that she had no idea of.

“I don’t know and I don’t really care. I heard she’s not even pretty.” Lixie shared, hoping to close the topic so that he may get back to his nap.

____________________

Meanwhile, at the Gryffindor table where the center of this week’s school gossip was located, was an annoyed yet slightly scared Alicia Spinnet.

“I swear to Godric, Fred, if the Slytherins find out about this and make fun of me, I’m gonna tell Angelina to kick you off the team.” The girl grunted as she displayed a balled fist for the older Weasley twin.

“Too bad she can’t do that ‘cause I’m literally one of the best beaters this team has ever had.” Fred teased, sticking a tongue out.

Instead of the twins sitting beside each other like they usually do, Fred was seated in front of George who’s back was facing the Slytherin table. Beside George was Alicia while Lee was beside Fred.

Today’s mission was to earn the attention of the Slytherin in which all George and Alicia had to do was sit beside each other after Lee purposely spread rumors about them dating. Additionally, to know whether the mission was a success or a failure, Lee and Fred were there to monitor everything.

“Then I’ll tell her your secret!” Alicia challenged, crossing her arms in front of her.

“What secret?” Fred hesitated, nervousness starting to engulf him.

“I know you like her, Freddie!” gloated Alicia.

“Oh yeah? Well, what is there to be afraid of? I’m no coward, I’m a Weasley!”

“Lee, any news?” George queried after shaking his head at Alicia and Fred’s antics.

“The snake just entered the hall,” Lee reported, quietly keeping an eye on the walking Slytherin as she took her usual seat on her house’s table.

“She is seated in front of Malfoy. She’s also beside Greengrass and they’re whispering.” The boy continued.

____________________

As Y/N took her usual seat beside the 6th year Greengrass, she noticed the girl being more ecstatic compared to every other morning. The girl was glowing, her grin was wide and a shade of pink flooded her cheeks. It seems like she was announcing something very important, seeing the tablemates’ attention focused solely on her.

At least something different was being talked about at Slytherin. Y/N thought, internally smiling at herself.

The Icestone heir observed all the attentive faces, her eyes landing on the blonde boy in front of her, the Italian boy seated next to the blonde, then the quiet boy who always had a book in hand who had the same shade of pink on his cheeks.

A thought entered the mind of the Slytherin, theorizing what her observations meant but deciding to find out to confirm everything.

Y/N bumped her shoulders to the girl beside her, whispering. “Daphne? What’s going on?”

Greengrass turned to face her, her eyes shining. “Turns out, my parents found me a match! I just received the owl.”

The Icestone mirrored the girl’s smile. “Well, you seem happy about it, Who is it?”

The boy seated next to Blaise Zabini let out a cough, making Greengrass steal a glance before turning back to her best friend.

“Theodore Nott.” Daphne giggled.

The smile on Icestone’s face dropped, cold eyes piercing the mentioned boy as she put on her most intimidating look.

“Alright, Nott. You listen here-” She began.

“Oh, poor boy.” Malfoy murmured, shaking his head with a smirk plastered around his face.

“Don’t scare him!” Greengrass scolded, smacking her best friend on the arm.

“I’m just kidding!” Icestone snickered before laughing at the boy’s terrified look.

“Cheer up, Theodore. I’m only joking.” She assured.

“But oh! I’m so happy for you, Daph! You were always waiting for this day to come, weren’t you?” Y/N commented before giving the raven-haired girl a side hug.

“Congrats best friend! We’re both betrothed!” Daphne beamed, returning the hug.

A series of falling silverware started to fill the Slytherin table, making the two girls pull away at the sound.

Icestone’s head became flooded with confusion, especially after seeing the shocked look on Draco and his friends’ faces. She slightly tilted her head, trying to figure out what was happening.

Eyeing all the tables at the Great hall one by one - Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, then Slytherin, everything started to make sense when the majority of her housemates had their jaws dropped, eyes towards her.

She couldn’t help but let her jaw drop too.

“Daphne...” she quietly called, trying to avoid everyone else present on the table.

“Bloody hell! I’m so sorry!” The girl agonized, her previously excited mood being replaced with guilt.

____________________

“Oh Godric,” Lee happily murmured, face contorting into a smile.

“What?” Fred, not really monitoring the Slytherin, asked with uncertainty.

“Look over there!” Lee ordered, eyes never leaving the Icestone heir.

After following Lee’s line of sight, Fred turned his attention towards his twin, beaming at him. “She looks shocked. I think she saw George! I think it worked!” he chimed with triumph.

George felt his lips curling into a wide smile.

____________________

Later that day, after Y/N’s last class with Professor McGonagall for transfiguration was dismissed, just before the girl headed back towards the dungeons, her arm was grabbed and she was pulled into an empty hallway.

Truthfully, the Slytherin felt like everything was a blur ever since the day started. Especially after breakfast at the Great hall.

Therefore, she wasn’t really focused on everything that was around her, causing her to grab her wand from her robes and point it at the intruder.

“Relax! It’s just me.” George assured, raising both his hands into a surrendering position.

Icestone looked at the boy up and down, keeping her wand away before crossing her arms.

“What do you want?” She mused, tapping her feet impatiently.

The tall Gryffindor furrowed his brows, staring down at the Slytherin. “Why are you so cranky today?” He pondered before shaking his head.

Y/N only gave him a grunt, hissing another “hurry up!” which made George grab the girl’s hand, placing a bag on top of it.

Icestone’s icy orbs stared at the bag. “What’s this?”

“Chocolate chip cookies, your favorite. To cheer you up, somehow,” replied George with a small smile plastered on his face.

George knew why the girl was so out of mood today. It was because she was jealous after rumors about him and Alicia started to spread around the school! And he planned on making her feel better by doing some good deeds. What more deed could be better than gifting the Slytherin her favorite sweets?

The Slytherin’s lips curled into a smirk. “You’re sure these aren’t raisins?” She teased.

“Hey! That was one time!”

Saving from turning the conversation into an awkward one, the girl muttered a quick “Thanks.”

“Good thing your girlfriend doesn’t get mad jealous when you do this kind of stuff with other girls.” Y/N mindlessly added, internally slapping herself at the comment.

She didn’t mean to let those sentences out, Y/N Icestone swears! It was at the tip of her tongue but she usually would’ve swallowed everything in. She didn’t know why words started to flow out of her mouth without any second thoughts.

“Girlfriend?” The Gryffindor repeated, feeling ecstatic on the inside.

George felt like he just won the lottery. Y/N’s statement just confirmed his theory of her being jealous.

“Is she not? People were talking about it though?” The Slytherin quipped, raising a brow.

George just gave a shrug for an answer.

____________________

“You handed her cookies! What is she gonna think now, you stupid git!” Fred grunted, smacking his twin’s arm.

“She thought Alicia was my girlfriend! How fun is that?” replied George.

The older ginger shook his head in disbelief. “Sure, she thought that Alicia was your girlfriend but what kind of boyfriend will she think you’ll be? A boyfriend who goes out of their way to give gifts to their exes?!”

“Oh, Godric! You’re right! That was a stupid move” George agonized, massaging his temples.

Fred gave him a pat on the back, comforting him “It’s fine, Georgie. You’ll do better next time. ”

“If there is a next time.”

“No-”

The painting of the fat lady, which actually served as an entrance towards the Gryffindor common room, suddenly bursts open with an out-of-breath Ron Weasley who looked like he just came running away from a wild elephant together with his best friend, Harry Potter.

At their little brother’s disheveled appearance, the Weasley twins put their conversation to a halt as their attention was directed towards him.

“You would not know what I just heard at Divination class earlier!” Ron gushed, calling over Hermione and Ginny to join in their little circle for him to deliver the information he knew.

“What?” Hermione grunted, annoyed at the ginger for ruining her reading session as well as the thought of the stupid class.

“So you know how Gryffindor and Slytherin are always conveniently in the same class, right?” breathed Ron.

“Of course...they pair us with those snakes as if we’re actually going to get along…” Fred commented, shaking his head.

The 4th year Weasley ignored his brother’s remark and continued on. “Well, when me and Harry entered the room, Malfoy and his lot were talking and it looked serious.”

Ginny raised a brow towards his brother. “So, being the nosy boy you are, you eavesdropped?” She interrogated, displeased.

“Ginny, it looked important. I had to know because what if one of us is involved? What if they’re planning another thing that could hurt George?” Ron reasoned before raising his right hand to swat the air.

“But anyway, I heard Zabini scolding Malfoy. I know, hard to believe right? But he said something like the entirety of the Slytherin house finding out Malfoy’s most important secret.”

All the people included in their little bubble gave a small nod, acknowledging the young Weasley, getting more and more curious.

“And?” George pressed on, making Ron look directly into his eyes.

“I heard what the secret was!” He rejoiced, being proud of himself.

“They really should have kept their voices lower.” He added.

“Just get to the point, Ronald!” Exclaimed Hermione, clearly getting annoyed by the lack of information.

“Y/N Icestone is betrothed to Draco Malfoy.”

End of Chapter 9

____________________

Taglist: @abrunettefangirlnerd @gloryekaterina @lilypad-55449 @memekingofwwiii @leovaldez37 @bellaiscool @sukunas-cult-leader @fandom-garbage @youcantbesirius @rainmaybank

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wish-i-wasnt-a-coward · 3 years

Text

Don’t be a coward

a/n: So, I’m super proud of this story but the first one did not do as well as I hoped. If you could, please like and re-blog it would make me so happy. Thank you all so much :)

Part 1, Part 2

Parings: Logince, Moxiety, and Demus

Warnings: cursing, vague sex mentions, food, a ridiculous amount of pining, kissing, minor intoxication, alcohol mention (everyone is 18)

Word count: 2,044

✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Roman ran his fingers through his tousled hair, “Why is it so difficult to ask people out? '' he wined, dropping his head into his hands. Logan smirked from across the table, “asking someone to the ball is no more difficult than any of the abundance of sentences you have said in your short life” he sassed over his text-book. Roman just groaned and flipped the pages of his herbology book absentmindedly.

Their study session was interrupted as Patton plopped down next to the frustrated boy. “Awww Roman, what’s wrong?” he asked and pulled out his homework. “He doesn’t have a date to the yule ball and is complaining about it, unsurprisingly” Logan responded for the grumpy Gryffindor.

“Come on kiddo, you got this! Anyone would be lucky to have you as a date” the bubbly boy said, wrapping his arm around Roman, who was still sulking. “Tell that to Logan, he’s being mean” Roman grumbled. “mm-hmm” The Ravenclaw hummed, not looking up from his book.

Patton laughed, “come on, there’s got to be someone you like!” Roman shook his head, “Yeah, like I’ve got a chance with them” Patton frowned, “that sounded a bit self-deprecating kiddo, don’t make me get violent” he chastised hugging Roman tighter.

Roman looked incredulously at Patton, “I’m not being self-deprecating Pat, I’m just being honest. I’m a Triwizard champion and not one person wants to be with me” Logan looked over his book, “in a romantic sense” Roman corrected.

“While that is statistically very improbable I do understand your distress, a Triwizard champion that does not have a date would most certainly be ridiculed during the first dance” Logan said, finally putting down his book. “I’ll be leaving you now, I will see you both at the feast,” Logan said, brushing off his skirt and sauntering away.

“Hey, pat?” Patton hummed, “do you have a date?” The Hufflepuff froze, “why do ya ask kiddo?” Roman shrugged, “I was wondering if we could go platonically, if you don’t have a date of course” Patton smiled awkwardly, “Awwww, that’s sweet, but I already have a date. I’m sorry!”

Roman eyes widened, “You- You have a date?” Patton nodded, “they asked me not to tell anyone but I figured you should know” the Gryffindor nodded, impressed. “I can not believe you got a date before me”

Pattan grinned, “well you could always ask out Logan” Roman glared at him, “you know I want to ask out Logan. But he’s either gonna think it’s platonic or he’s gonna turn me down, and then I’ll be too heartbroken to dance” the frustrated boy dropped his head into his hands, “I’m screwed either way”.

Patton just laughed and smiled knowingly.

✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The weeks leading up to the ball went far too fast. Of course Roman was as petrified as you could get. He had decided, dragons had nothing on this.

He did end up with a date, some younger girl had asked and he figured there was no reason to say no. Logan did not receive a date but said he couldn’t care less. He planned to show up to support his friends, and then go back to the library.

Roman could hear his brother shuffling around the back of the common room, probably trying to destroy his dress robes even more. He wasn’t sure if Remus had a date but he couldn’t bring himself to ask. Remus did his own thing, he would be fine. The boy straightened his deep red dress robes the best he could, took a deep breath, and went down to meet his date.

The date in question wore a long orange dress, similar to Romans red. The two walked to the great hall arm in arm, she wasn’t very talkative and mostly seemed to be going out with him for clout. Roman was well aware that this was as good as he was going to get.

But it was pretty good, the hall was covered in glistening decorations, and snow fell gently on their heads. Romans date squealed in excitement, but Roman really couldn’t care less about the hall.

Logan was there.

The Ravenclaw wore a simple blue button-down shirt tucked into a long black skirt that was embroidered with silver constellations. His mid-length hair was pulled up into a bun that had been impaled by his wand. The light of the decorations seemed to bounce off of him like he was glowing.

“Oh my, he looks beautiful” Roman nodded but his date wasn’t facing Logan. After a moment of confusion, he followed her gaze.

Patton, yes Patton, floated down the staircase. His light blue floor-length gown flowed around him like water as he walked. A sparkly headband was nestled in his curly hair and light makeup adorned his face along with a wide grin. He looked like a goddess, or at the very least a princess. Of course, Logan looked better in Roman’s eyes but Patton was a close second.

Virgil walked up to Patton, bowing deeply and holding out his arm. Patton giggled and took it, allowing himself to be lead away. Roman’s jaw must have hit the floor. Not only did Patton look amazing but Virgil had asked him out, and he had said yes!

Roman’s date clung to his arm a little painfully as they followed the pair to the Professor leading the champions to the dance floor.

The first dance was clumsy, and the second not much better. Roman was a decent dancer but he kept getting distracted by Logan, who kept popping up in his peripheral vision while conversing with the guests. His date was not happy with him. As soon as the dance floor was full she stalked away angrily, her orange dress flying behind her.

Roman hoped she got a better dance partner.

Patton and Virgil still flew above the others, Janus had found himself a date as well. It looked like a Hogwarts student, but Roman couldn’t place them. They both wore yellow and green dress robes and floated almost as much as Patton and Virgil. Perhaps slightly less elegantly but floating nonetheless. A stark contrast to Roman’s dancing moments before.

The champion slinked off of the dance floor. Roman was so wrapped up in his thoughts he almost slammed into a familiar figure carrying drinks, “oh my gosh, I’m so sorry- Oh Logan! How are you” Roman said, smiling at the boy.

“I’m doing quite well, thank you Roman,” Logan said happily, “would you like to find a seat? I wouldn’t mind talking for a while” Roman nodded vigorously and the two made their way over to an empty table.

“Is it safe to assume you did not know of Patton’s date?” Logan asked. Roman nodded, “I knew he had one but I didn’t know who it was” Logan bit his lip thoughtfully, “Me as well, and your brother?”

Roman furrowed his eyebrows, “my brother?” he questioned. “Yes your brother, is that not him dancing with the Baubax champion?” Roman looked back onto the dance floor catching a glimpse of the yellow and green dancers,

“HOLY SHIT!!! That is my brother! I didn’t know he had a date, he’s going out with Janus! Why is he so clean!!!” Roman said, freaking out.

Logan laughed, “yes I figured it would be a surprise. I was there when Remus asked, it was quite amusing. I was surprised Janus said yes” Roman grinned, interested, “tell me about it!” he said and shimmied closer to Logan excitedly.

The two sat and talked for quite a while. By the time the dance floor had cleared a bit, they were both drowsy and perhaps a bit tipsy. “Dance with me?” Roman offered his hand, mustering what little courage he had left. Logan nodded happily, taking Roman’s hand and allowing himself to be led onto the floor.

‘This is more like floating’ Roman thought he wrapped his hands around Logan’s waist. Logan was an excellent dancer, much better than his last partner (no shade to her but Logan is perfect in every way).

As they danced they passed Patton who squealed excitedly and whispered something to his partner. Virgil smiled at Roman in a congratulatory way, Roman smiled right back. They also passed Roman’s brother who stuck out his tongue at Roman and flipped him off. Roman retaliated instantly, causing both Logan and Janus to laugh.

Logan leaned his forehead against Roman’s shoulder, “I like dancing with you” he mumbled into the red fabric, “I like dancing with you too” Roman said his face now matching his robes.

In a bout of bravery, he pressed a kiss to the top of Logan’s head. Logan pulled Roman even closer and breathed deeply.

They stayed like this for hours. Patton and Virgil disappeared and Remus was unabashedly making out with Janus in the corner of the ballroom. Roman tugged on Logan’s sleeve after the Ravenclaw yawned one too many times. “Bed?” Logan nodded sleepily.

Roman walked Logan to the Ravenclaw common room. Logan stopped in front of the door letting go of Roman’s hand for the first time since the ballroom. “Well, I’ll see you later,” Logan said, “uh, yah! Tomorrow” Roman waved. Logan turned to go.

‘Come on, don’t be a coward’ Roman could hear his brother scolding him. “Logan?”

The Ravenclaw wiped around, “yes?” Roman took a step, “can I, um” he glanced down at Logan's lips, Logan nodded, “you may”.

Neither were sure who closed the gap.

Romans head filled with styrofoam as Logan’s lips connected with his. The Ravenclaw moved his hands to cup Romans face as Romans arms wrapped around his waist on instinct. Fireworks exploded around them, skin was cleared, crops were watered, all was well with the world.

Then Logan pulled away. “Good night Roman,” he said grinning. Roman stood shell-shocked and Logan disappeared up the stairs. The Gryffindor ran his fingers across his lips and smiled.

✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Weeks had flown by and the second task hung above the champion’s heads like swords. Logan and Patton helped Roman crack the egg puzzle in every way they could, but It just kept screaming.

Virgil and Janus had started hanging out with the group of misfits. Janus was snarky and quick with a joke, they all grew to like him. Patton asked Virgil on another date and a few days later the two officially started dating.

Logan and Roman danced around each other both unsure how to ask the other out. Especially with the second task approaching alarmingly fast.

“Roman!” a voice called from down the hallway, Roman turned towards it and smiled seeing it was Virgil, “Roman, I need to tell you something” Virgil painted, “yeah?”. “I know we agreed not to talk about the tournament because we’re both competing”

Roman tried to cut them off, “wait, listen. I never returned the tip about the dragons and you need to know” Roman looked hesitant, “I’m not sure…” Virgil sighed, “just…. you know the prefect’s bathroom,” he said. “Umm yeah,” Roman blinked, “it’s not a bad place for a bath” Roman blinked, “What? The hell does that mean???” but Virgil was already gone.

That night Roman snuck down to the prefect’s bathroom, carrying the egg gingerly. He stripped down to his underwear and slipped into the huge bathtub. He turned back towards the egg sitting on the side. “This is crazy” he whispered to himself and screwed open the top. Screams filled the bathroom and Roman clamped it shut.

“What the hell are you doing?” a voice called from the doorway.

Logan walked in, turning away red-faced when he saw Roman in the bathtub. “My question stands, what the fuck are you doing?” he asked embarrassed. “Umm, I got a tip that I should take a bath with the egg. Figured we didn’t have many other ideas, so...” Roman trailed off, equally red.

Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and turning back towards Roman, “did you try putting it in the water?” he asked exasperatedly. “no” Roman admitted quietly, picking up the egg and dunking it in the water.

He took a breath and screwed it open. There were no screams, Logan gestured at the tub, “go listen”. Roman plunged into the water.

Come seek us where our voices sound, We cannot sing above the ground, An hour-long you'll have to look, To recover what we took

Roman came up gasping for air. “what did it say!” Logan asked excitedly sitting next to the tub. Once Roman had caught his breath he repeated what the egg had said.

Logan looked thoughtful. “Perhaps a see-dwelling creature… one that sings” he murmured. “Roman, do you know of any mermaid populations in the black lake”

Roman nodded excitedly, “Logan you’re a genius” he exclaimed pulling himself out of the water and hugging Logan tightly.

Logan flushed and pressed a kiss to Roman’s wet hair. “Thank you, but the work isn’t over yet,” he said, pulling away now soaking wet, “what does the second half mean and how are you going to be underwater for an hour?” he exclaimed thinking rapidly. Roman nodded, drying himself off and pulling back on his clothes.

“Right, that may be a problem” he contemplated. “But a problem for future you and me. It’s late, we should go to bed” Logan shrugged, “you’re right, we should. May I walk you back?”

And if Roman wasn’t there when Remus woke up, well, that’s none of your business.

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nocturnememory · 3 years

Text

this softness (a knife, a knife, a knife)

I was with you, he says, with his fingers ghosting along her scar. Right here, always.

She’s curled up against his side, Tales of Beetle the Bard, sits splayed open on the other half of the bed, but there’s no story she likes hearing more than the one he’ll tell her and only her, in the low light of her bedroom, half-asleep and pressed up as close as she can get to him.

Prompt: This is two prompts mixed into one, hopefully that works out for both prompters... the first was “What if Voldemort won the first war but harrie still ended as a hocrux?! Their life and story then. Would he watch over her as she is raised? Maybe care for her more or less?“ and the second, “How do you think Voldemort would raise Harrie? If he took her or kidnapped her from her parents instead of trying to kill her.”

This doesn’t quite match up with both exactly, but it merges the two together because I think they were too similar to not meld together into one prompt.

hopefully the two prompters enjoy it anyway!

Warnings: Underage, age-gap, Voldemort raises Harrie, Minister of Magic Voldemort, morally grey!Harrie. Pureblood rhetoric/prejudice. Pureblood culture/beliefs.

This is definitely pretty dark and like, very very morally complicated. Don’t be fooled by the fluff in the first part. If you’re at all sensitive to underage/age-gap stories, this one is definitely not for you. While I’ve done my best to keep it from being squicky with grooming, there’s definitely still going to be threads of this story that cross like, a lot of boundaries.

this softness (a knife, a knife, a knife) 1/3

Outside of her cupboard, there’s a knock on the front door of Privet Drive.

In the kitchen, a chair scrapes back, her uncle grumbles and mutters about dinner time and no good nuisances. His footsteps are heavy and thundering as he passes by her cupboard, blocking the striped, reaching light from the slats for a moment as he heads to the front door.

His footsteps fade as he turns the lock and yanks the door open, his voice sharp and hard. “Do you know what time it is? What kind of f—”

There’s a thump and a sliding sound, like something heavy being pushed across the floor. Like when Aunt Petunia has Harrie vacuum the front room and she has to push and push the big couch back to get at the dust underneath.

The light to her cupboard gets blocked again, that sliding noise louder and louder like whatever is being pushed is sliding right past her cupboard door along the strip of carpet in the hallway.

Beneath that noise, just beneath it, something gurgles and gasps.

And then, there’s a scream. A thump, more thumps, something breaks and shatters and underneath it all, that choking, gasping gurgling sound.

Harrie huddles into the corner of her cupboard with her knees to her chest and her arms shaking, clutching at her little tin soldier in her sweaty palm.

No one ever looks in her cupboard, she tells herself, they won’t find her in here. She’s safe in her cupboard, she’s always been safe in her cupboard.

It gets louder, the thumping and gurgling and screams outside of her cupboard and Harrie tucks her head into her knees, squeezing her eyes shut—

Until—

It goes quiet.

Her ears strain and she pulls in a breath and holds it, trying to hear what’s going on in the kitchen.

There’s a drip, drip, drip… and Harrie swallows, turning her head towards her cupboard door, watching the light stripping through the slats, her heart thundering in her ears as she holds her breath just a little bit longer.

Drip, drip, drip.

Like spilled milk over the edge of the kitchen table, she thinks, or juice from one of Dudley’s tantrums that Harrie always has to clean up, girl.

Drip, drip, drip.

Shaking, she hears footsteps, a pair of shoes over the hard kitchen floor turning into softer steps on the carpet in the hall. Steady and slow, coming towards her; they sound too heavy to be Aunt Petunia’s, but much too light to be Uncle Vernon’s.

A stranger, she thinks. It’s a stranger in the house, isn’t it?

She huddles smaller, hugging her knees tighter as the footsteps stop in front of her cupboard; it blocks some of the light, the pair of legs just outside of the door.

Her heart pounds, wild and unsteady and so loud in her ears it sounds like Dudley jumping on the stairs above her head. Thump thump thump.

The latch slides and drags back in a metallic scrape.

She goes cold at the same time something hot burns through her stomach and— and she feels— she feels—

So angry. So angry, her palm’s slippery and hot and it was over too quick, too quick, should have taken longer. Drawn it out. It’s clawing at her insides and— and the knob turns and the feeling cuts off, sharp and sudden enough to make her hitch a little breath.

The door pulls back.

A man crouches down slowly, he’s tall and big and fills the little, angled doorway of her cupboard up until there’s barely any space left.

He holds his hand out, it’s red and shiny, even in shadows of her cupboard.

“Hullo, Harrie,” the man says with a careful, slow smile that makes her feel…makes her feel…

It makes her slide forward, unfolding from her tucked-up, tight huddle in the corner, makes her slip her hand into his sticky one so he can pull her out towards him until she can tuck her head into his neck and wrap her arms around his shoulders and cling onto him so tight she thinks it has to hurt him.

But his fingers are long and warm as they push into her hair to cup the back of her head as his arms wrap around her like they’re swallowing her up in the size of them; his voice is low and warm and she can feel it inside of her chest, her belly, the clench of her knees digging into his ribs, trembling to cling on tighter and tighter and tighter.

His head turns into her shoulder, his chest shifts against hers as he breathes out, long and slow and warm over her skin, his arms tightening just a little bit more around her.

“I’m sorry it took me so long.”

She’s so much smaller than he expects.

He doesn’t burn the house down, no matter the desire to wipe the filth of that family off the face of the Earth like God’s hand coming down with a vengeful flood.

No, no. That’s almost kind, isn’t it? Fire purifies in so many ways, and they deserve to die like the bugs they are. A smear of gore on glass. Crushed beneath his palm.

He seals the house and leaves them to rot.

The girl, his girl, breathes gently against his neck, her cheek soft and warm, her arms lax over his shoulders. She hasn’t spoken yet, but she knows him.

She knew him as soon as she saw him.

In a cupboard. A cupboard. (He killed them too quickly, too easily. He should’ve taken his time taking them apart. Chained them to a rockface and picked at their organs and bones like a vulture. Left them to be gnawed on by rats and birds a little more each day.)

His girl whimpers at the heat of his anger and irritation, and he ducks his head and presses his lips to her forehead, his voice low and easing, shh, sweet girl, it’s alright.

She weighs nothing, and it’s his own fault for being so caught by it. She’s taken up so much space in his mind for years that the reality of her, no matter that he knows she’s nothing but a four-year-old child, leaves him staggering to process it.

He’s been hunting for her for so long. Four years since he knew about the idea of her. Three years since he’s known her, known her voice and her face in flashes, known her hunger and her tears, known the terribly rare sound of her laughter. (Once, just once, a kitten-lick on her palm, a stale house with an awkwardly-kind old woman surrounded by cats who fed her stale cake.)

A squib, he’d found out later, a kind old fucking squib faithful to Albus. She’d lived only long enough to seal her own fate. (A terribly small girl, she’d said around her tea cup, her eyes glassy and unfocused, I’m not sure they treat her very well but—)

But.

When he was a boy, he imagined that when the day came that he and Albus came wand-point to wand-point, it would be bloody and beautiful and biblical. The battle of Armageddon; the orphan boy and the false king.

(His eyes are like blazing fire, and on his head are many crowns. He has a name written on him that no one knows but he himself. He is dressed in a robe dipped in blood, and his name is the Word of God.)

A final stand that would raze Britain to its foundations and let the victor rebuild it in whatever image they chose. A fanciful, violent dream shaped by a boy sculpted by his childhood. Verses twisted to fantasies. Recitation twisted to conception.

It would have been something.

But now— now Albus has fashioned himself a noose of his own making and it tightens by the hour. Inches tighter by the minute. There will be no crowns and no battle, no fire and no brimstone.

There are bruises on her and she weighs nothing.

He holds her through the twist of Apparition, carries her into his estate that’s been sitting empty, sitting waiting, sitting ready for the moment he finally found her.

He peels her out of her too-large muggle clothes and sinks her into a bath so overloaded by bubbles from an overeager house-elf that she nearly disappears into them.

The house elves send food and Harrie picks at apple slices with peanut butter and sliced fruit with slick little fingers.

He sinks himself onto a conjured stool beside the tub and does not even once think about what anyone would think about Lord Voldemort sitting at the side of a child’s bathtub.

Instead, he rolls his sleeves and pulls bubbles into little animal shapes to move around her head. Sends an Erumpet charging through a bubble-boulder, a snake winding over her head, a little fluttering pixie that blows bubbles out of its little bubble mouth.

Her laughter is sweeter than that one echoing sound of it he heard once in his chest— sweeter than any sound, in truth, in all the years he’s been alive or a shade or something caught between the two.

Harrie laughs and giggles and soaks until she’s pink and pruned, until all the filth of those muggles is nothing more than dirt sinking down the drain.

After, when he plucks her out of the tub and wraps her in a too-large towel, she stands between his bent knees and shivers in the chill outside of the tub, the fluffy thick, white towel tugged up to her mouth as she blinks at him all wide-eyed and green; hopeful, resigned, curious, cautious.

“Are you real?” she asks, her voice small and muffled as he rubs his hands briskly over her shoulders and back to warm her up again.

His anger is a sudden and ice-cold dagger inside of him. Harrie's brows furrow and her body tightens, shoulders tensing, pulling the towel higher and tighter until its right under her nose.

He reigns it in, swallowing it down and resumes rubbing over her shoulders and back. “Yes, I’m real,” he says, as light and easy as he can manage. “Do I not feel real?”

She shrugs her little shoulders and leans into him, tucking her head against his shoulder. She’s warm and damp and he can feel it soaking into his clothes slowly, but he wraps her up in his arms and lets her burrow closer, still clutching at the towel but pressing herself into him.

“I’m real,” he says as her hair soaks his shoulder and she turns her head and presses her cheek against his chest. “I’ve been looking for you for a long time, Harrie.”

She’s quiet, her body slowly easing in his arms as her shivers subside. “You promise you’re real?”

“I promise.”

(Albus has lost the right to be remembered. He’ll be no more than those muggles dead in Four Privet Drive, a smear of bug guts on glass.

He’ll leave the man to rot in a field, he thinks.

Nothing but dead and rotting meat.)

I was with you, he says, with his fingers ghosting along her scar. Right here, always.

He’s warm and so big and Harrie never feels like she can get close enough, no matter where she tucks her head or how hard her hand curls into his shirt. His heartbeat is steady and familiar, even when it wasn’t. Even when she isn’t sure she knew his face, she thinks she always knew him.

I had to put myself back together, he’ll say, with his fingers on her cheek or her scar, his voice this low-rolling thing that fills her up so nicely, rumbling out of his chest and into her. You were my little guide in the dark for all my scattered parts.

She doesn’t like the idea of him being apart but in her mind he’s like a puzzle and she’s piecing him back together with her own little hands, fitting all his edges into hers the way her still-bony knees and elbows fit so nicely into the warmth of his chest or under his arm. The way her cheek will fit hotly against his shoulder and she can hear that wave-like whump-bump of his heart that always reminds of her when she was in her cupboard and it was dark and empty but not so empty at all. When she’d shut her eyes and plug her ears to cover the sound of the Dursleys forgetting about her. In the quiet, in the press of her palms, she’d hear that ocean-like sound, whump-bump, whump-bump.

It’s her favourite place to be, listening to that sound inside of him; her ear pressed up against his shoulder or chest and she thinks he knows it, too, because sometimes he’ll slide his hand over her cheek until it covers her other ear, until the world fades away and there’s nothing but that sound. Nothing but the weight of his palm, his fingers in her hair and his thumb tracing slowly over the edges of her scar.

Whumpbump.

There’s a man kneeling on the floor, and he’s bound in shackles and he looks at Harrie with the saddest look Harrie’s ever seen, like those dark paintings she’s seen hanging on the walls in the Malfoy’s long hallways, their faces twisted and dark.

The man in front of her and Tom says her name like it’s something other than just a name.

“Harrie,” he says with a face that twists almost painfully towards tears. Harrie, I’m so sorry—

She doesn’t know what he’s sorry for, but one of the Death Eaters standing next to him yanks a thick silver chain that’s attached to a thick silver collar around his neck and the man grits his teeth as his eyes flash yellow and something growls low in his throat as he winces in pain.

Tom carries her as he walks in front of the man, but there’s a smile on his face just for her, and in her ear he says: he thought he could hide you from me, like it’s a funny little secret just for them.

Harrie almost laughs, burrowing her smile into his chest instead; she doesn’t think it’s the right place to laugh, it’s too cold and tight in the room. It doesn’t feel right. But it’s funny all the same and she feels it bubble inside of her because—

Because Tom hunted giants for her, she knows the story; she was hidden away like a princess in those adventures in her picture books.

The half-giant came thundering through the rubble and stole you away from the battle right when I’d finally found you.

The giant had been the one to leave her with the Dursleys, Tom said.

Sometimes, Harrie thinks she remembers it, this cracking roar of a sound that she thinks must’ve been the giant; she remembers being carried so high up that it must have been something very tall carrying her.

He was the key to finding you, he’d tell her whenever she asked for the story, and I fought him until he fell like a great, old tree and then I cracked him open until he spilled all those terrible secrets in his thick, giant head.

It’s silly, she thinks, that anyone could think Tom wouldn’t find her. The man kneeling in front of them should have known better.

“This one,” Tom says as he shifts Harrie in his arms and walks around the chained man. “Was one of Albus’ most loyal little dogs. But he’s been hiding away in the muggle world, hasn’t he? Like the little traitor he is.”

The last comes out sharper, harder, and Harrie feels Tom’s anger in her belly; sometimes she’ll get echoes of it when he tells the story but it’s brighter now, more real.

It isn’t just a bedtime story, she knows, no matter how many times she asks for him to tell it. She knows it’s all real.

Tom fought giants for her.

“Not even a dog,” Tom says and then he smiles again and presses it into Harrie’s cheek until Harrie looks at him and wraps her arms around his neck and drops her cheek to the thick of his shoulder to watch the bound man from the comfort of Tom’s heartbeat beneath her ear when he pulls back.

“No, not a dog,” he says lightly. “But we’ll let him find himself, won’t we, sweet girl? We’ll show him what sort of beast he truly is.”

The man swallows and jerks in his chains, his eyes closing as his shoulders slump. “I’m so sorry, Harrie.”

She frowns and fiddles with a button on Tom’s shirt, blinking at the man; she doesn’t know what to think about him, only that he’s awfully silly for thinking Tom wouldn’t find her, and must not be that smart to think he could hide.

Tom’s very, very good and Hide and Seek. He always finds her.

“It’s a full moon tonight,” Tom says lightly. “We should go to the beach, shouldn’t we?”

Harrie sits straighter in his arms, glancing at the other man. She doesn’t think Tom means to bring him along, they usually only go to the beach together but… “Just us?”

Tom chuckles and nods. “Just us. He’ll be much too busy tonight, I’m afraid. He’s been cooped up and hiding for so long, I’d imagine he needs some time to be himself, hm?” he pinches her side, his smile growing at her laughter before he turns his head to look at the other man. “And he must be quite hungry, I’d imagine.”

Nagini, Tom tells her, holding her in the waist-deep water along the edges of the lake as the snake slides through the waters around them like a glimmer of dark oil just under the surface. She’s big and long and endless, circling Tom’s waist, brushing slickly against Harrie’s toes where they dig into his hip.

She isn’t sure if she’s afraid, because Tom’s with her and nothing bad will happen to her if he’s there, she knows, but she clings on a little tighter to his shoulders, peering down into the dark waters, the sun above them lighting only the first few inches, just enough to see the metallic, colourful scales along the snake’s skin as she circles them.

Tom walks further into the water, until it laps coolly over her waist and his stomach and she’s only half-listening but ever attuned to his voice in her ear.

Naga’s prefer the water, he says, but Nagini loves to hunt in the fields. Fat cows and wild deer, the bigger the better. She’ll squeeze and squeeze, he says, his arms tightening around her, until they fall asleep, and then…

He pinches her side and makes her squeal out a laugh and slosh the water around them as he sinks them up to their shoulders.

She’ll bite them, quick and sharp, sinking her venom into them.

You’d be nothing to swallow up, he teases, a little mouthful. A little appetizer with sharp little bones.

You wouldn’t let her eat me, Harrie insists.

No? he asks, with his crooked smile that makes her whole tummy do this happy little dance and makes her grin back as she shakes her head, the damp edges of her hair flying around them.

I’m not food.

Aren’t you? he says, with a laugh as he takes her hand in his and moves it out into the water to stroke over Nagini’s winding scales. What are you then?

Yours, she says and his grin is wide and so happy she can feel it, like little bursts along her insides.

You are, he says and brushes his nose over the soft of her cheek before he lets out a little snarl and bites her cheek lightly. You’re mine to eat up, aren’t you?

Harrie squirms in his arms, giggling at the scrape of his teeth over the soft of her cheek, before she bites him back, snapping her little teeth at him, her nose scrunching with a growl. No. I’ll eat you. She says and wraps her arms around his neck, tighter and tighter. Like Nagini, she decides, I’ll swallow you up.

He laughs into her shoulder, and she barely pulls in a breathless squeal of surprise when he dunks them both into the water, Nagini winding around them, her voice as smooth as silk.

Hello, little hatchling. He’s been hunting for you for ssso long.

The door creaks open and he glances up, even though he already knows who it is, sneaking into the room. Though, he thinks, sneaking isn’t quite the word for it.

His girl slips sleepily into his office, clutching a throw blanket from her bedroom around herself, her hair wild and her eyes heavy with sleep. Her bare feet quiet little pats in the lull in the room, the blanket dragging behind her like a cloak.

Abraxas’ lips turn up at the sight, hiding a smile in the way he leans on his elbow, his fist just covering his mouth. Bellatrix’s jaw tightens in irritation, as young and too eager as she is vicious and cruel.

Severus watches the girl, his mind carefully, perfectly blank.

Harrie stumbles up to his side and he turns in his chair, letting her clamber onto his lap, pressing her warm cheek into his chest as she curls up in her blanket. She grabs at his arm, dragging it over her middle, a soft little pout in her lip.

“Spoiled girl,” he whispers before shifting her, settling her more comfortably on his lap, listening to her little inhale and sigh, feeling the curl of her hand into the front of his shirt, holding onto him.

She’s asleep in moments, the gentle hum of her mind always at the back of his, fades into a soft, blurry thing full of contentment.

“The papers are already running the story,” Abraxas continues after clearing his throat and schooling his face. “The attack on the Ministry will be blamed on the Order. I edited the article myself, malcontents targeting Purebloods and Minister Bagnold, who so recently and tragically lost his wife to the very same violent insurgents.”

“How terrible,” Tom smiles, feeling that same contentment that comes with Harrie’s steady heartbeat against his. “I look forward to tomorrow’s paper.”

Albus dies alone a week later. A poisoned candy rotting away in his stomach.

(He lets them bury him and lets them mourn. He takes Harrie to Italy for the week and lets her press gelato-sticky kisses to his cheek in the heat of the Italian sun and the salty spray of the ocean. He’s never been partial to lemon, but he smiles around glass after glass of Limoncello and laughs at the face Harrie makes when she insists on tasting it.)

Lemon has never tasted better, he thinks.

(He digs him up when they get back. Strips him naked before dumping him in a field just outside of Hogwarts wards. No final words, no victorious speech; Harrie’s waiting for him already, tucked into his bed no matter how many times he carries her back to her own.)

Victory, Tom realises, looks entirely different now:

Sleep-warm cheeks, bony knees in his ribs, a little reaching hand that curls around his finger.

#my writing

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rons-wheezely · 3 years

Text

Honey Boy || Cedric

[requested!]

Genre: Fluff!!! Expect your teeth to rot :)

[muggle!reader] [cedric x reader]

Summary: Traditional muggle baking is a favorite past time of yours, although many students are prejudiced against it. A certain boy always liked your baking though, and that’s the only thing that matters. “I had a friend of mine teach me, but I doubt it’s as good as yours.” “It’s absolutely stunning.”

A/N: I’m combining the two requests because sweets + fluff = a recipe for a good Cedric fic lol also I’m so sorry that this fic took me forever!! Once I started writing, it never really stopped so it ended up being kind of long, I hope that is okay!

--x--

When you first came to the Wizarding Academy, it was like a dream come true. In the following weeks, however, it proved to be a little bit less than that. “What are you wearing?”

You stare blankly at a fellow student. “My robes, of course. Why?”

“No, I meant the things on your hands.”

“Oh,” you look at your hands. You’re wearing oven mitts, the ones your parents bought you to take to the academy. You often borrowed the Hogwarts kitchen after hours, so to see you like this is no surprise. Every once in awhile, however, some curious student or the other will waltz by and scrutinize you. “These are oven mitts. It’s a muggle thing.”

The students nods slowly, still trying to understand the reasoning behind it. After a while, the student leaves, mumbling to themselves about “why not use the wand?” but you didn’t pay any mind to it, most kids leave the same response anyways.

You finished up cleaning the countertop area, this time with your wand, reciting an incantation one of the many house elves taught you. They had their own magic, but since you were so keen on using the kitchen, it became a staple rule to clean up after yourself. It swirled around and swept up all of the mixing bowls into the air, letting them dance themselves all the way into the sink. The stainless steel sink bubbled with warm water and soap, busying itself with scrubbing each dish that comes its way.

You smiled happily to yourself. Someone cleared their throat behind you, and you froze. Everything stop mid-production, like a pause button. Paranoia ate away at you, wondering who it could be this time. Perhaps it was a professor, with a scowl on their face and yelling to the heavens. Or perhaps it was another student, a silent stare creeping on the back of your neck.

You turned around, scared out of your wits, only to be met with a disarming smile and yellow accented robes. “I thought you’d be here.” Cedric Diggory smiled at you, and the anxiety melted away with it.

“Really? How come?”

“Tori said just as much,” he walked closer, looking around the room in wonder. Slowly, you resumed the cleaning process, watching how his eyes lit up at the scenery. “I was going to ask if you wanted to study, but,” he chuckles,” it seems like I’ve come at a bad time?”

The oven beeped, catching the attention of the both of you. You rushed over frantically, throwing the oven mitts back over your fingertips. “Actually–”

You open an oven left somewhere in the far corner, letting the delicious scent of baked goodies fill the empty room. At once, Diggory was enraptured in consuming aroma that drifted by. “You came right on time,” you said as you gently take the tray out.

He eyes the tray curiously, watching you fan them to cool down quicker. You only wanted it to cool down faster so that he could have a bite, but just seeing you dramatically fan the goodies brought a smile on his face. “–I wouldn’t say right on time, it’s probably more like a few minutes early, but if you’d like I have–”

“Of course, y/n.” He looks at you,” I’d be more than happy to try them.”

It’s not until hours roll by and an empty tray of goodies gone did you realize how late it became. You sat upright and stiff, a shocking revelation dawning on you. “We never studied.”

“Oh y/n,” Cedric’s nose nose scrunched up as he tried desperately to hid his smile. He failed miserably, letting his lips curl up in delight. “It’s a bit late now, isn’t it?”

“It’s no use, I suppose...” You tapped on your chin as you thought of a solution. “Maybe we can study together tomorrow? The exam isn’t until Friday, right?”

“I’d like that.”

That night you lay awake, the comfy sheets tangled between your legs. You can’t sleep, and thoughts drifted in and out of your head restlessly. As far as you knew, Cedric was a pureblood. But he never judged you, not once, about anything muggle related. It’s kind of liberating; to feel so welcomed in Cedric’s presence.

Your body grew too warm for the bed, tossing and turning as you did so. Your cheeks were hot to the touch, embarrassment leaking out of your pores. It was only a fleeting thought, but then it lingered and then oh, how it wouldn’t go away. Cedric is kind hearted, so much so, that it had touched the very depths of your heart. The little inkling thought that made your breath catch in your throat was the fact that maybe, just a little bit, it would be nice to love a boy like him.

A couple of days later, you found a new recipe that reminded you of Cedric. You busied yourself in the kitchen, letting the joy of baking for another fill you to the brim. After a battle of wits against the mixing machine, there was finally a moment to pause. The sweet scent of chocolate muffins consumed you and left an itch to share the funny butterflies in your stomach. Fresh out of the oven, you wrap one of the muffins up. You neatly tuck the sweet treats into your bag and flurry down the hallway.

If you want him to try it at its peak performance, you need to deliver it while the muffins are still warm. The hallway doesn’t have many students, but you spot your friends, Fred and George.

“Hey Fred,” you smile, half out of breath. “–and George too.”

They smirk when they see you, already lining up a flurry of tricks to play. The Weasley on the left spoke up saying,”What’s the hurry?”

“Yeah, what’s the rush?” The twin on the right said.

“Would you happen to know where,” you pause. Breathing seemed to take its time coming to you. “..where Diggory might be?”

A unified “ooohhh,” sung out from their mouths. Regretfully, you could see it in their eyes that they knew. You liked the boy, didn’t you? With a whistle, George says,” Last I checked it was the Quidditch field.”

You murmur a small thanks and rush off towards the fields. Your footsteps thundered down the corridors, an aching feeling settling in your toes. Baking is one thing, but running across campus? No thanks. And the butterflies. There were so many of them fluttering around, sputtering things that warmed up your cheeks. You wonder how so many butterflies could fit into one stomach, but you digress.

When you reach the fields, Cedric was coming out of one of the tents. Your eyes meet, and his smile practically sweeps you off of the ground. “Hey,” he says as he walks up to you.

Cedric pat his face with a towel, a sheen of shiny sweat rubbing away with the soft fabric.

Immediately you can feel the heat rush from your body to your face. The comfort of his presence juxtaposing your uncomfortable stance was very foreign, but it helped to ease your nerves. “I... I made you some muffins. It’s good luck for the upcoming game, you see.”

His eyes widen just a bit, watching as you frantically pull out the muffin from your satchel. You reach out to hand it to him. Thankfully, it’s still fresh and warm, and the tingling feeling is hot on your fingertips. A gentle,”Thank you,” reaches you ears as he softly takes the baked item into his palms.

You see a teammate call out to him. You want to talk to him more, having only spoken about two sentences, but to your dismay, the better part of you knew better than to keep him to yourself. He turns back to you, the same look on his face.

“I know I’ll love it y/n, don’t worry. I’ll tell you how it tastes later, yeah?”

You nod and watch as he jogs off, hurrying to grab his broomstick. The next week flew in quickly, and the flurry of wizarding homework drowned out all of your free time. As silly as it was, you didn’t have any time to bake now that exams are around the corner.

Light leaks in from the castle window, pouring in to fill the room. Dust basks in the warm sunlight, the particles bothersome to your occasional sneezes. Why does the Hogwarts’ library have to be simultaneously the best and worst place to study?

Hours tick by, and the fatigue is starting to kick in. You’ve been staring at your textbooks for hours. “Ah,” a voice chimes in. “There you are.”

Your droopy eyes immediately shoot open, and you look up to see Cedric. “Oh! Hey, Diggory.” A smile creeps on to your face, unable to hide the relief and joy you found in his presence. “What are you doing here? I thought you were studying with Cho this afternoon?”

He looks down at the ground while his robes silently swayed with his movements. He’s grown awfully quiet, so you thought there was something on the ground. You glance at where he is looking, but there’s nothing to be found. “Cedric?”

Your words snap him back to reality. Red starts to flood his cheeks, and his eyes widen at the sudden jolt. “Ah–– s...sorry!” He stutters. He sounds nervous, but the way he carries himself and moves so fluidly, it looks effortless. His fingers have a mind of their own as they kindly closed the heavy textbook and find a way to your hand. “Come with me, will you?”

And of course, how could you say no to that?

He leads you somewhere quiet. It’s one of those outdoor hallways, but the scene is empty with nothing but stone and the sunset sky. Your heart beats a little faster when he stops. His figure stands tall, but it takes him a minute to look you in the eyes. Warily, he pulls out container.

“I’m not the best at baking, I know,” he chuckles,” but I wanted you to know how much I appreciate the things you’ve done for me.”

He holds out the package, and when you open it there is a miniature cake inside. Despite the concept of a mini cake being delicate, wonky handwriting is scrawled and piped on top. It’s barely legible, so you squint.

“It’s supposed to be honey cake, but uh... don’t be surprised if it doesn’t taste quite right.” He says. “I had a friend of mine teach me, but I doubt it’s as good as yours.”

You two stand there in awkward silence until finally, you understand the words on the cake. “i like you” is what it says. Suddenly not only did the butterflies come back, frogs were also caught in your throat. The boy you liked.... likes you back?

“You... you like me?” The statement that leaves your mouth comes out as more of a question, the shock and confusion stunning your senses.

He nods. “Do you... like the cake?”

“It’s absolutely stunning,” you breathe out. Of course you would like it, Cedric Diggory made it for you.

He hands you a fork and motions you to sit on the stone ledge. You do so numbly, eager to taste. You take a bite and let fluffy texture fill your heart and soul. “Cedric, it’s delicious! I love everything about it.”

You glance at him, and maybe it’s just you, but his face is a breath away from yours. Warmth radiates between you two before he breaks the silence.

“..Can I kiss you?”

It was sweet like honey –– sweet like him.

--x--

A/N: oh boy that was a long one...... Definitely inspired by some honey cake I had lol

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imagineswriting47 · 3 years

Text

Nightmares and Date Nights

A/N: This is for the Anon that asked A Dean x reader where neck kisses make her sleepy? All mistakes are mine and mine alone. This is not Beta read. Sorry, this took so long to get out. I will try to be better about posting.

Warnings: None

Summary: The Reader keeps waking up for nightmares, and Dean helps her.

Parings:Dean/Reader

Tags: @akshi8278

"NO!!." I wake up to screaming only to find that I was the one doing the screaming. Sweat and tears are running down my face. I hear footsteps rushing to my room; my door is thrown open, showing Sam and Dean on the other side. Dean, with a gun in hand, ready for whatever was making me scream out. Once Sam and Dean see nothing in my room attacking me, the gun is lowered, and a look of concern is on both of their faces. I have woken them up the last couple of nights with my screaming. Not being able to look at them, I keep my head down. I was waiting for them to walk out of my room before I let the tears fall. When I hear the door close, I finally let the sob that had been bubbling up out. The tears quickly make their way down my face. It is then that I feel someone sit down next to me on the bed; quickly looking up, I find that Dean is still in my room.

Dean doesn't say anything as he pulls me into a hug. In Dean's arms, I cling to him, my hands fisting in the back of his shirt. Dean doesn't say anything as I cry. Dean holds me and lets me cry until there are no tears left. Once I get my breathing under control, I pull away from Dean only to feel him wipe the tears from my face. "What is going on, Y/N?" I shrug my shoulders, not ready to talk about it yet. I want to get some sleep. I am so tired I haven't had a full night of sleep in what feels like weeks. I pull completely away from Dean before turning my back to him and lay back down, hoping that Dean would understand and leave me alone.

Dean doesn't leave; he lays down behind me and wraps his arm around me before pulling me back against his chest. "I'm not leaving you alone. That is not what a family does." I don't know but having Dean in here with me seems to help me as I quickly fall asleep. Having Dean with me seems to help keep the nightmares away as Dean, and I seem to sleep late into the next day.

I am woken up to Dean, pulling me closer to him. For the first time in weeks, I have slept this late. I carefully remove Deans are from around me and quietly leave my room. Making my way to the kitchen, I start some coffee for Dean and I. The coffee was finishing up when Dean makes his way into the room. I pour him a cup before getting myself a cup. We both work silently as we make ourselves something to eat. Dean didn't bring up last night, and for that, I am thankful.

The day in the Bunker is quiet as there is no hunt that we can find. With nothing that is pressing that we all need to be doing. I finally do my laundry that I have not had the chance to do as we had been back to back hunts the last couple of weeks. Deciding that I would do Sam and Deans, I quickly get their dirty laundry from their rooms. I do the best to get all the blood out before throwing it all in the washier.

As I am waiting for the laundry to finish, I work on cleaning up my room. I start by making my bed. Picking up the pillow that Dean has used, I can't help but smell it. Leather, gun powder, and the shampoo that Dean uses is the smell that greets my nose. It smells like home and safety. Not wanting to dwell on that fact, I finish making my bed before moving on to straightening up my bookcase and placing everything back where it goes.

It doesn't take long for my cleaning and the laundry to finish. With the basket of Sam's laundry, I make my way to his room. "I'm just worried, man. Every night this week, she has woken us up with her screaming." Pretending that I don't hear the conversation, I knock on his door as I wait for Sam to open it. "I have your clothing. Oh, Dean, yours is done too. Want me to put it in your room?" Sam and Dean both have a guilty look on their faces. So whatever conversation I had overheard had been going on for a while. Turning my back to them, I don't wait to hear what Dean has to say about his laundry. Placing it in his room and on his bed, I turn and make my way back to my room.

When I hear my name called behind me, I pretend not to listen to it as I close my door behind me. Climbing into my bed, I pull my blankets over my head in the hopes that I could get a small nap in before Dean would start dinner. Sleep doesn't come easy. I lay in bed until I hear a knock on my door, and Sam is telling me that dinner is ready if I want to go and eat.

Pulling my hair back in a bun, I make my way to the kitchen. Dean has made famous burgers for dinner. He knows that they are my favorite and only makes them when he is trying to apologize to me or do something that I don't like—not wanting to bring up the fact that I know what he is trying to do. I eat silently, not joining in the the conversation about possible hunts that we could be going on in the next couple of days. I clean up the kitchen as the boys finish eating before leaving the room.

I decided that I would head to bed early as I didn't want to deal with anything. Washing my face and pulling on clean pajamas, I climb into bed. I don't know how long I lay in bed when I hear my door being pushed open. Pretending to be asleep, hoping that they would leave me be, I hear my door shut before someone is sliding into the bed behind me.

"I know that you are awake, Y/N. So what is going on?" Dean asks in a quiet voice. Almost like he is afraid to break the silence in the room. "This is the week that I saw my family get murdered by those demons," I whisper to Dean. I had never talked about how I got into hunting and why. I never talked about my family. It just hurt too much, and this week is always hard on me. Reliving that night over and over only now, I know how to save them in my dreams, and I never can.

Dean doesn't say anything after my words; Dean holds me tighter to him. When I thought that maybe Dean has fallen asleep, I feel him place a kiss on the back of my neck. I can't help but tilt my head further to the side, letting him have more of my neck to kiss. Dean takes the hint and keeps kissing every inch of my neck that he can reach. "Y/N, you know that I am no good with words or talking about my emotions. But I care. I care about you more than just a friend," Dean whispers into my hair, his breath tickling the back of my neck. "I wish that you would have come to me sooner, Y/N. It would help if you were not alone right now. And I don't know about you, but that was some of the best sleep I had when I was here in bed with you.

Turning around in his arms so I can look Dean in the face, I find that he has the most beautiful blush covering his cheeks. I am moving my arm to place my hand on his cheek, rubbing my thumb across his bottom lip. It feels so soft, making me want to touch them against my lips. "Dean, I care about you too," my voice is just as quiet as his. Dean looks me in the eye. What he is looking for, he must find as the next moment his lips are on mine. The kiss is chaste, nothing more than him pressing his lips against my own. It holds a promise for much more later.

Both of us know that we are not ready for more. That we both want to do this right, but that doesn't stop Dean from placing kiss after kiss to my lips before trailing them down my neck. I can't help the content noise that leaves my lips as Dean continues to kiss my neck. My neck had always been my weak spot. Neck kisses always could make me feel safe wand that always made me feel so sleepy. I can feel my eyes grow heavy with each kiss. Before I know it, I am asleep. I wake up the next morning with Dean kissing me.

"So how about a date night, then?" Dean asks with a smile on his lips. I nod my head yes before climbing out of bed. I make my way to the showers loving the endless hot water of the Bunker. Once I am showered, I make my way back to my room. Dean is gone by the time that I get back, but the smile on my lips doesn't seem to leave. Even with a date planned, Dean seems happy to always be by my side.

We talk about everything that we can think about. Dean then asks about my family. I tell him how I lost my family when I was sixteen, and not long after that, I found out that it was a demon possessing someone. Deciding that I didn't want anyone else to ever go through what I did, I started learning all that I could about the supernatural. That once that I got out of high school, I got into hunting. Dean wasn't happy to find out that I was hunting on my own all that time before I had met them. I told him how I didn't trust anyone enough to hunt with them before him and Sam. He got this stupid smile on his face when I told him that.

Before I knew it, I had to start to get ready for my date. As I was getting ready, I couldn't help but think that finally talking about what happened to my family made me feel a little lighter. I finish up my makeup, keeping it simple as I am not one to wear a lot of makeup to begin with. I keep my hair simple and leave it down. Knowing that Dean doesn't get to see it down very often. I pull on a clean top before changing into some nicer jeans. Jeans that don't have any holes or bloodstains on them. Before leaving my room, I pull on my favorite pair of converse. Pulling open the door, I find Sam on the other side of it, hand raised to knock on the door. "Sam?" I say as he steps back from the door, leaving me room to step out into the hallway. Sam puts his arms around my shoulder as we walk down the hallway with my door closed behind me.

"I am glad that you talked to Dean Y/N. Dean didn't tell me what you talked about, but whatever it is, I want you to know that you don't have to go through it alone. I am glad that Dean finally found the courage and asked you on a date." Sam whispers the last part before we walk into the kitchen.

Dean is standing there in some of his nicer clothing and a nervous smile on his face. Looking at the table set up, I find that (YourFavoritMeal) on the table. I don't want to know how Dean found the time to make this, but it is incredible.

Dean pulls out a chair for me as Sam walks away from the kitchen, not before placing a kiss on the top of my head. Taking my seat, Dean helps me push my chair closer to the table. Dean takes his seat across from me, and I can still tell how nervous that he is. Reaching across the table, I take his hand in mine before telling him. "Dean, don't worry, this is perfect." I can see him relax at my words even if he doesn't let go of my hand. We hold hands all through dinner, only letting go when Dean stands up to get dessert.

With dinner finished and the kitchen cleaned up, we make our way back to the bedrooms. Dean walks me to my bedroom before kissing me on the cheek. "I had a fantastic night, Y/N." I pull him into a hug then not ready for the night to end. But it is getting late, and we have to be up tomorrow for a Hunt that Sam found.

"Me to Dean." I kiss him on the cheek before turning and opening my door. With the door closed behind me, I lean back against it—a stupid smile on my face. Finally, moving away from the door, I start to get dressed for bed. When I am moving my blankets down on my bed, I realize that I don't want to sleep alone tonight, either. Grabbing my favorite blanket off my bed, I quickly make my way from my room and down to Deans. Knocking on his door, it doesn't take long for him to pull his door open.

"Can I sleep in here with you?" Dean doesn't say anything after asking that just steps away from his door and lets me into his room. Dean's bed is bigger than mine and much softer, making me wonder why I never went and got some memory foam to sleep on. Laying my blanket down on his bed as well, I climb under to cover with him. Laying on my side Dean is once again is the big spoon. Dean kisses me on the back of my head before he starts placing kisses along my neck also. "I like it when you do that, Dean. It makes me feel safe and sleepy."

"I'll have to remember that," Dean whispers to me. He doesn't stop kissing me until I fall asleep.

A/N: If you liked this, please leave a heart and a re-blog. Requests are still open, and so is my tag list. I can't wait to hear from you all!

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader #dean winchester #sam and dean #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean x you #Jensen Ackles

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coffee--writes · 4 years

Text

ᴏʙʟɪᴠɪᴀᴛᴇ- ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

•cover by @pcseidcnsvoid•

•beta reader: @yourssuccubus•

Series Masterlist

➛ Remus Lupin x Reader Series

➛ Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind AU

What if there was a way to forget someone who hurt you? Erase all memory of them from your mind, never to trouble you again. Would you take it? Y/N L/N and Remus Lupin’s relationship had always been an odd one that slowly escalated downhill ending in a catastrophic mess. So the two decide to erase each other from their minds, relieving themselves of the emotional damage done. But what if you decide that you don’t want to erase Remus… in the middle of being obliviated.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Language

Your eyes flutter open.

Bright lights singed your eyes. When your vision refocused you immediately recognized the pale blue walls of the Shackers building. The room you were in was familiar to you. A desk cluttered with papers and a bookshelf filled with textbooks. The examination office. The reason for being in the room confused you. What was happening? You were positive the process wasn’t done, so what was going on? You turned around and a shocked gasp left your lips.

You were staring at yourself.

There you sat in the same chair you had sat in earlier. The medi-wizard stood beside you, her wand pointed at your head. A small item sat in front of you, your favorite mug from Remus. The medi-wizard’s wand lit up a light pink and your eyes widened. “What’s going on?” the you in the chair asked.

“We’re recording your reaction to Mr. Lupin’s objects. It helps us track where he is in your mind.” the medi-wizard replies kindly.

Your mind rushed with confusion. Why were you watching yourself? The medi-wizard had already shown you the object. What you were watching had already happened to you a mere few hours ago. A voice echoed around you. It was ringing in your ears. The words were barely audible but by the sweet tone you could tell it was the lady who had come to your apartment to perform the procedure.

Slowly the voice seemed to fade. Scared, you followed it, pushing the door of the office open. The minute you did so you found yourself walking straight into Remus’s flat. It’s walls lined with books. The typewriter still sat in the corner. No clutter was to be seen and the flat kept its usual clean aura to it.

You spotted Remus on an armchair, a book inches from his nose. His lips were a thin line and his expression somewhat miserable. A mug sat next to his seat, filled to the rim with lavender tea. A maroon sweater cloaked his figure and his face was pale and littered with a few scars. That’s when you realized what you had stumbled upon.

This was the last time you had seen Remus.

The ghost you. No, you would say memory you, walked into the living room. The tension between you and Remus was thick. Remus didn’t even look up from his book when you entered, one of his books in your hand and a tune being hummed from your lips. Memory you took a seat by the window, the stars shining dimly through the curtains.

“Stop humming.” Remus snapped, his eyes yet to leave the pages of the book.

“Why?” you scoff, “I left my Walkman at my flat.”

“You can go one goddamn day without music.” Remus replied harshly, flipping the page of his book with a scrape.

You open his book, folding it in half, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Remus huffed a frustrated sigh, “You’re being annoying. I mean look at you! Humming that stupid song by the Rolling Stones for the fifth time today. Folding my book in half! You’re going to curl the pages.”

You let out another scoff, “Oh for fuck’s sake, Remus. It’s a book and it’s meant to be read and I could read it how I like.” you pull a pen from the drawer that was beside you. “Well shit. Now you’re writing in them. Come on, Y/N!”

You groan in anger, “I’m sorry, honey. I just have a whole project to do for work. Don’t mind me keeping some notes in your precious book.”

Remus closes his book, running his hand through his hair. “There’s literally a pad of paper in front of you. Use that instead for Merlin’s sake!”

You watch you and Remus bickering. As you relived the argument, a pain stabbed at your heart. However, instead of the sadness that usually resurfaced when you thought of Remus, a bitter anger replaced it. His words were cruel and vividly unlike him. He shouldn’t have yelled and you sure as hell shouldn’t have let him.

“What is it Remus? Why the hell is everything I’m doing bothering you? Full moon coming up?”

You cringe at your own words. It was a low blow for you, using Remus’s lycanthropy against him. Self-hatred at your words bubbled in your mind. Remus’s face contorted into a bitter scowl. “You know what, yeah. A full moon is coming up. And guess who forgot to brew me Wolfsbane?”

You freeze, “How many times do I have to apologize? It was one time! That doesn’t give you an excuse to be an asshole.”

Remus’s eyes burned with a rage filled passion, “At least I have an excuse. What’s your excuse for acting like a bitch?”

His words that day had rung in your head for the days following that argument. You watch as the memory of you freezes. Remus’s face drops as the realization of his words hit him. However, it was already too late. You had already apparated out of the flat. The memory of you was gone and all that was left was Remus. His face dropped in awe at his own actions. Tears stinging in his eyes. Rage still boiled in your blood. Impulsively, you yelled out, “Fuck you, Remus. Fuck you.”

You jumped when Remus responded, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Y/N.” he stuttered, sobs filling his lungs, “I’m sorry. We can work this out.”

Confused as to how he could hear you, you fight back, “No. I’m having you erased. Just like you did to me. Fuck you!”

There was no response to your words. Remus grabbed a couple of belongings from his chair, tears still brimming in his eyes as he swung open the door, slamming it behind him. You follow instinctively, heading to open the door. But right as you open it, Remus was gone.

You entered your flat this time. Remus and you sat hovered over a table. Both of you staring at a large poster; letters from the newspaper cut out to spell “Lycanthropy”. You remembered that moment vividly. It was Remus’s first major project; a presentation on lycanthropy for the children at Hogwarts. A notable cause, you had told him. Educating kids on werewolves was an important matter to both of you. The poster was only the beginning.

Your flat was a mess. Newspaper pieces and shreds scattered on the floor. Ink stained papers thrown across the table and floor. Book upon book on lycanthropy stacked three feet high. You watched the memory sadly, neither of you spoke. This was when it had gotten bad. The arguments became more frequent, the sleep less cozy, and the love slowly disappearing from view.

You watched as Remus tapped the poster with his wand, the letters dancing about the poster. You chuckled softly, a small smile on both your lips. Looking at yourself ached you. Each little smile you observed, watching as your relationship crumbled into tiny pieces. It was simply unbearable; that in order to truly forget about Remus you had to relive all the pain.

You just wanted the pain to end.

The memory seemed to slowly fade. Your ability to discern what was going on fading. The last thing you saw was you tap your wand on the page and a flood of light hitting the poster.

>>><<<

Your vision narrowed back in. The sun hitting your eyes, making the little details of the new memory clear. You stood on a sidewalk, the streets slightly crowded with people. You spun around, looking for where Remus would be. Where the memory was going to take place.

“Rem! Rem! Guess what!”

Your voice is loud and clear. You turn around, the memory beginning. There were you and Remus, hand in hand, walking down the street. A smile on both your faces as you walked. You trailed the two lovers in the memory, the conversation ringing through your ears.

“What is it, Y/N/N?” he asks, a slight chuckle leaving his lips.

The smile on your face grew big as you spoke to him, “My boss has offered me a promotion! I could be making so much more money then I am right now. The job would be everything I’ve worked hard for and dreamed of. Isn’t that amazing?”

“Wow!” Remus smiled, “Congratulations, Y/N/N. That’s awesome.”

You watched yourself nod, remembering the happiness that had filled your heart when you had found out about the opportunity. The pride and triumph that exploded in your mind. The thought that each day’s hard work had gotten you to that moment. The moment where you could finally get what you dreamed of. But then sadness and bitterness bit away at the once joyous feeling; remembering what happened after that moment.

You had never taken the job.

“Yeah. I mean I’d have to spend six months in Ireland but-”

Remus stopped mid-stride. His eyes widening, “Wait… Ireland? Y/N that’s really far. And for six months?”

You had stopped, turning to him with a confused look in your eyes but a smile still lingering on your lips, “Well, yeah. I mean you could always come with me. It would be nice to get out of London, leave England. It’s also for my job. I have to go if I want the promotion.”

Remus bit his lip, huffing before looking you in the eye, “Y/N/N, I don’t want to leave London.”

You scoffed, a scowl forming on your face, “Well, it’s not really your decision. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I just figured you’d be happy for me. That maybe you’d come.”

Remus’s face grew red, anger clouding his eyes, “Not come? Y/N, you’d be in Ireland. What do you want me to do? Send you some owl post and act like we’re in a relationship?”

You raised your voice, “What the fuck? Look, all I asked is if you would come with me. This is my job for fucks sake! You’re not even considering it and that makes you downright selfish, Remus. You’re acting like a selfish bastard!”

“It’s you who’s being selfish. You expect me to just drop everything and leave with you to another country?”

“If you loved me, you would!”

You clenched your eyes shut, pressing your hands to your ears. You couldn’t bear to listen to the shouts anymore. The pain was too much. You just wanted it to be over. The shouting, the constant screaming. You pleaded for it to end.

And then the voices faded.

And then there was silence.

>>><<<

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bounty-in-the-eye-of-the-mando · 3 years

Text

Author's Note: So this is my first Mandalorian fic. It came to me on a whim following me listening to the song Written in the Stars by a band called Westlife. Hope you enjoy.

Warnings: None

"Cause when I look at my life

How the pieces fall into place

It just wouldn’t rhyme without you

When I see how my path

Seems to end up before your face

The state of my heart

The place where we are

Was written in the stars"

FLASHBACK

You found yourself leaning against the wall of the bunker, occupying the little green being with some bubbles that you’d bought downtown while paying a fleeting visit to Jedha. He was fascinated with them, cooing away in contentment. His sizable green-brown eyes gazed in awe at the bubble forming from the wand in your bandaged hand. You’d ended up accidentally slashing your palm open on some metal that was hanging by a thread on the rear side of the Razor Crest while Mando was out on a hunt. He’d been gone a few days, so he was unaware of your injury, but even when he came back, you’d immediately slipped some gloves on. Well, it was cold so it’s a viable excuse. “You like these little one?” you cooed in excitement to Grogu, who was still so wide-eyed, and flashing a little toothy smile. He began to giggle, and more so when he turned to face out of the bunker. “Mando-“ you stammered, not even considering the fact your bandaged hand was in plain sight, “I-I-didn’t hear you coming.” He crouched down, full beskar, in the doorway, “He loves these. What did you do to your hand cyra’ika?” His modulated voice, full of concern as he reached out for you to place your hand in his. “I-I-it’s a long story, but when we were on Jedha, I was outside the ship playing with Grogu and I caught my hand on a damaged metal sheet that was hanging off the side. I managed to fix it though.” “Let me see,” he whispered. You placed the bubble wand back in the tub, and reluctantly placed your hand in his. You were terrified – mainly because you were never one for physical contact with anyone. The thought of it turned you sick. The only physical contact you had within the past year was with Grogu – he always demanded you pick him up – but he was different. He was a baby. Mando was not. He was silent as he studied the bandage, his breathing sounding raspy through his modulator. Before you knew it, he removed his gloves. That’s when you first had a glimpse of the man underneath the armour. His hands, large, covered in callouses, were a perfect golden colour - he wasn’t pale like you. Your skin resembled that of a corpse – deathly white. And even though his hands were intimidatingly large, they were gentle. He carefully unravelled the bandage. Silence enveloped you both, with the exception of the odd grumble or coo from Grogu. “Cyar’ika, this looks painful,” he murmured as he focused on the injury on your now upturned palm, “you need to be healed.” How was I going to be healed? you thought. You’d used a bacta-shot so there was no way you were going to get an infection. “Kid, do your thing,” Mando addressed Grogu, who was gazing at us both, “you get to sleep and then play with your bubbles later.” Grogu chirped, blinking incessantly at Mando. He shuffled around a little and then lifted his arms, his three-fingered hands moving about as if he wanted to be picked up. “I can’t little one. My hand is injured, and I don’t have the bandage on,” you said, guilt in your voice. “He’s not wanting to be picked up,” Mando explained, “he’s going to do his healing thing.” Before you could even argue, Grogu, in complete concentration mode, started to wiggle his fingers around more. Your gaze averted to your injured hand, it was beginning to heal.

With Grogu having been asleep for what seemed like an eternity, you felt lost. Your mind was starting to race overtime and you could feel the psychological pressure form in your head – the thing was, you had a million and one questions. Would Mando answer? Who knows? He was a silent type normally, never really answering questions – either because he couldn’t, wouldn’t or shouldn’t. It was hard to tell. He always remained a complete mystery, but that was the thing, unlike many, you enjoyed mystery – you didn’t like finding out too much all at once. It was the sure-fire way of losing interest. You decided enough was enough and finally left Grogu to join Mando in the cockpit. He was focusing on what was in front of him. As you sat in the chair, you didn’t utter a word, fearful of breaking his concentration. Your eyes scanned over his entire form, watching him. “You need to make the staring a little less obvious,” a voice, with the underlying tone of a laugh broke the silence. He hadn’t even turned around, but he knew it was you. “So, he’s sarcastic when he wants to be,” you bit back at him to the best of your ability, eyes still fixed on him. Everything fell silent once more. “Mando, I’ve been with you for the past year, and although I’m grateful, I just feel like, I-I-don’t know you.” As he was about to respond, his tracker beeped erratically, “We need to land.”

PRESENT DAY

All the days seemed to roll into one. You’d been on Tatooine for three months now. Mando was hardly around and he took the Razor Crest with him. For the first time in a long time, You felt neglected. And hurt. Peli Motto, a mechanic who Mando knew well, put you up in digs so you were safe from harm’s way. She didn’t have to, but she did. She owed him, and he was grateful for her goodwill gesture, and so were you. “You still waitin’ for him? He’ll come back y’know.” You turned your head to look at her over your shoulder, breaking your gaze from the landscape in front of you, “I want him back for his sake.” “He’ll come back for both of you,” Peli smiled, as she stroked Grogu’s ear. Grogu held on to you so tight, night after night. He missed Mando terribly. You were his only source of comfort. “I don’t know where he goes, who he goes after,” you sighed, squeezing Grogu tighter, “I tried contacting him the other night because this little womp rat gets restless if he doesn’t hear his voice. I just don’t know where to go anymore with any of this. I’m terrified Peli.” Peli led you away from the balcony to sit you down, “You love him, don’t you?” I don’t know – do I? was all you could think of saying but your brain wasn’t connecting well with your vocal cords, so you failed to speak. Peli smiled warmly, her eyes jumping from you to Grogu constantly, “Because I know for a fact, he loves you. May not show it very well to you, but when you’re on the outside looking in, it’s the most obvious thing since this little one is green.” You were overcome by a wave of emotion - you felt elated, shocked, deceived and sick, but also happy. It felt like you were surrounded by a breath of fresh air yet hit by an oncoming herd of Bantha. “Has he-,” Peli gulped, uncertain whether she has said too much, “has he ever told you?” You surveyed Peli’s facial expressions, “He’s never told me a thing.” You weren’t sure if this was a good or bad thing, but that was something you never disclosed to one another. The only one whose feelings mattered was Grogu’s. You both wanted him to be happy, comfortable, safe and loved. Nothing more, nothing less. Grogu’s cooing made you snap back to reality, and with that, Peli had announced her departure from the room, “I’ll be in the workspace if you need me, but trust me, he’ll be back.”

You sat trying your hardest to digest the words Peli had spoken. You couldn't make sense of any of it. Were you too worried over Mando? Were you worried over Grogu? Were you worried that if he did love you, you weren't good enough? Everything just kept spinning around and around in your mind, which was just in a complete mess. Grogu knew something was wrong. He twisted himself around in your lap so he was face to face with you. His gigantic eyes met yours. What was he thinking? Could he sense how you were feeling? Cooing, he stretched his little hand out toward your cheek. The touch of his hand on your face caused fluttering in your heart. This was the first time you'd felt love - like a mother's love - for someone that never belonged to you. Someone you'd only spent just over a year looking after. You felt a tear roll down your cheek, as you couldn't peel your eyes away from this little being, "I promise you, that whatever happens, I'll always be with you."

It had been weeks since Peli told you about Mando. Although you hadn't let it play on your mind too much, you'd find yourself tending to go back on it every so often, especially as you watched Grogu go to sleep. Watching his perfect little form sleeping so peacefully, his little nose twitching as he drifted off into a dream. He decided to not want to sleep in his crib for a long time, more or less the length of time Mando was gone. You carefully moved about as Grogu slept. Cleaning his crib, you noticed something small, like it was wrapped. You couldn't remember giving anything to Grogu but then did Mando? You wanted to open it, but then you didn't want it to be seen as some sort of betrayal. You mulled over it for some time before making the rash decision to open it.

You sat on the bed. The item you'd pulled from Grogu's crib, on your lap. Carefully, you began unwrapping. When done, the item that was wrapped ever so tightly was now in full view. It was a pendant. A pendant of the Mandalore. Why was it left in with Grogu? You knew that this was only given to those who were deemed part of the creed. This clearly meant that Grogu was indeed part of the Mandalore. You studied the pendant in awe, your heart feeling as though it was being tugged. The little baby you looked after actually belonged somewhere, and you were happy. But what happened to you if Mando didn't return? Did it cover you both? As you pondered, your mind ran away, a million and one thoughts ravaged your brain. You were so deep in your escape that you didn't realise Grogu had woken up until he tugged at your sleeve, "Hey little one, it's ok." Grogu cooed, stifling a yawn. You found him snuggling up to you, and trying to see what you had in your hand. "You're so inquisitive," you chuckled, "it's a special Mandalorian symbol. And it's all yours." As you began to show him what it was, he tried grabbing it, "No baby, I'll look after it for you. You'll try eating it." Grogu grumbled, but not for long. He began babbling, looking up at you all doe-eyed. "Bubbles?" Flashing his little toothy grin, you picked him up, placing the pendant in your pocket and went hunting for the tub of bubbles.

Heading outside, you could hear Peli fixing machinery, either a droid or a glider of some sort. You placed Grogu down on an upside down crate and began to blow the bubbles in his direction. His giggling was infectious yet soothing. Peli appeared from the workspace, and padded over to you, "He sure looks happy." Turning to her, a wide smile on your face, "I'd like to hope he is, and not just because of the bubbles." Your heart sank a little as you reminded yourself that Mando had still not returned. "Oh, he is. He loves you like a mother," she grinned, "it doesn't take a genius to work that out. You hungry?" "Starving." Peli, without hesitation, picked up Grogu and you both walked inside.

For the most part, there was just general chit-chat between you and Peli, about her work, Grogu's fascination with bubbles and food, but then when you were seated, things got a little too much when you started playing with what was in your bowl. "(Y/N), what's wrong?" Peli's voice was enamoured with concern. Sighing, you put your cutlery down, "I just don't know what to do anymore. I feel like he's gone and he's not coming back. Everything just doesn't make sense anymore. He's not here to see Grogu play with his bubbles or go on a short adventure for a change of scenery, hell, he hasn't let me in. God why the hell did I let myself fall in love with him?" The words just came tumbling out, and you didn't have time to think about what you were saying. It's only when you glanced over at Peli with tear-soddened eyes that you realised maybe you sounded like a desperate love sick puppy, but her gaze jumped to you and to the doorway behind you repeatedly. "Is that how you feel cyar'ika?" The familiar modulated baritone came from behind you. By now, you wanted the ground to swallow you whole - not because you were embarrassed about your confession but the fact you were crying. Crying with a confession like that was dangerously embarrassing regardless of the situation. Gulping and quickly wiping tears that rolled down your now flushed cheeks, you began to stand. "I'll leave you two alone," Peli croaked, sweeping Grogu from his chair and leaving for the other room. You stood there, frozen to the spot, staring at Mando. Were you hurt that he showed up out of the blue now after so long? Yes. Were you relieved in knowing that he was still alive and standing in front of you? Yes. "Let's talk in my room," you murmured, trying to keep yourself composed. You led Mando through to the room you'd set up as your sleeping quarters whilst staying with Peli.

Mando closed the door gently behind him. You'd gone over to where the balcony was by the time he padded over to the bed. You began trembling, letting out a heartfelt sigh as you gazed into the sunset on the Tatooine landscape. You needed to speak to Mando. What you would say to him would be a different story. You clenched your eyes shut, thinking carefully about what you were going to say, when you felt calloused hands snake around your midriff. "I'm so sorry cyar'ika." The voice sounded different, almost stripped back. The feeling of raspy facial hair grazed across your exposed neck. Opening your eyes, you came to the realisation that he'd removed his helmet. Struggling, you turned around to face him. Your heart began to race profoundly, your stomach felt like butterflies. He had removed his helmet and you were in awe of the man standing in front of you, "Mando? Why have-" He cut you off, "My name is Din. Din Djarin. And I need you to know that I'm sorry for being away from you all this time, and for keeping my walls up. And yes, I've just gone against my creed by removing my helmet but I'd risk it all for you in a heartbeat." You stayed completely silent, unsure of where you were even going to go with the conversation. "Being away from you was a test, and a hunt, but primarily a test. For me. For you. For us. And now I know that I cannot live a life without you anymore. Not without you or Grogu. Being without you has made me realise that nothing makes sense. And as for being with you, well, there's nothing I want more. I love you cyar'ika." You looked a mess right now, and you knew it and he looked every inch perfect. His dishevelled dark hair, golden glowing skin, his mismatched facial hair. Your heart skipped a beat. "You know, I really want to scream at you because you have made me so angry, but I also want to scream right now because you are the most frustratingly beautiful man I've ever laid eyes on," you said, trying to control your emotions, "but Mando- sorry, Din, I love you too. With all my heart. You and Grogu." He was stood there, his arms open in an invitational gesture. Without hesitation, you fell into his arms. "You are so beautiful," he whispered as he pressed his lips to your hair, "and I also know you found the pendant." "Wha-how do you know?" trying to sound surprised. "It's not in his crib," you heard him whisper, sensing he was smirking, "it's pretty special because that's meant for the three of us. There's the main outline, which is mine, the middle outline, which is yours and the centrepiece of all, well, that is Grogu's. We're a family now, and nothing will take that away." You looked up into his deep chocolate brown eyes, which had a mischievous sparkle in them, "Thank you for everything, including taking your helmet off." As you flashed him a wink, his lips curled into a smirk, and then without a warning, they came crashing down like a mass tidal wave onto yours. This was it. This was the way your life had panned, and it was written in the stars.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction

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bymyside-fic · 3 years

Text

Harmony (~7000 words) read on AO3 // AFF

- November 1, 2018 -

The scent of burnt something wafted into Jonghyun's bedroom, rousing him sooner than he would have liked. Frowning, Jonghyun sat up, looking around his disheveled room as his brain slowly -- very slowly -- came around to the idea that it was, in fact, morning.

Then there was a clatter in the kitchen. A muttered curse. And Jonghyun was suddenly much more alert, fumbling for his wand only to double back for his room when he realized he was quite naked.

Though granted, that might be enough of a shock for whoever the intruder was to scare them out without him having to use magic at all.

He pulled on a pair of sweatpants before he snuck back out, tiptoeing his way to the kitchen.

Something sizzled a bit too loudly, a very audible wince or whine just barely louder than it. Utterly confused now, Jonghyun brandished his wand and turned the corner, only to lower it a second later, his mouth agape.

Smoke billowed from a blackened pan on the stovetop. Coffee bubbled out of a cauldron the next burner over, spilling out onto the floor where -- Merlin's fucking beard -- Garcons stood lapping it up. Dishes filled this sink, other attempts at cooking, perhaps, and Taemin stood in the middle of it, spatula in hand, hair askew, and perspiration shining on his face.

"I just wanted you to know that I'm not usually this bad at cooking," Taemin said as Jonghyun hurried in, removing the pan from the stovetop and cooling it with a spout of water from the tip of his wand. "Don't get me wrong, I suck at it, but -- "

"It's okay," Jonghyun said as he pushed Garcons away from the coffee with his foot before siphoning it back into the cauldron, where the boiling brew was reducing by the second. "I'm shit at it too, that's why everything is enchanted to do it for me."

Taemin let out a long, quiet Oh as Jonghyun cleaned everything else up with a flick of his wand before stooping to gather up Garcons.

"Is coffee bad for dogs?"

"No clue."

"Where's Comme Des?" Taemin hummed in question, mopping the sweat off of his face with a kitchen towel. "The red one."

"Oh, uh, he was whining to go out so…"

Nodding, Jonghyun moved past him, opening the back door and finding Comme Des curled up on Kibum and Minho's back porch. He set Garcons down, the little ball of black fluff running over to his brother, bowing playfully before him, enticing him to play. Jonghyun sat on the back porch step, watching the pair of them run around the community garden.

A guest of nippy autumn wind reminded him that he was shirtless, causing him to shiver as a rash of goosebumps bloomed across his exposed skin. The back door opened and Jonghyun looked back, finding Taemin stepping down to join him on the porch, a sweatshirt in hand.

He passed it to Jonghyun, who leaned away to pull it on, then rocked back, his shoulder brushing against Taemin's. "Thanks."

"Yeah, no problem."

He stayed pressed against Taemin, the contact, however small, was pleasant. Peaceful, even. But maybe that was just the morning.

"Wait." Jonghyun swung his head around, looking incredulously at a confused Taemin. "Your flight!"

"Oh. Yeah, no that left hours ago," he said with a chuckle.

"Don't you…" he blinked rapidly, scooting away from Taemin so he could see him better. "Don't you need to go home?"

He grinned, eyes shining. "I've got two weeks of paid vacation time because I never take breaks. I already called my job to let them know I'll be here for a while." Jonghyun's mouth popped open, just barely, and Taemin's smile faltered. "If you don't want me to stay, that's okay, I understand."

What had been intended to be a single kiss, then a single night...turned into two weeks?

Whether it was a good idea or not, he still liked the thought. Because he liked Taemin, despite his being a Muggle -- or a No-Maj, or whatever the fuck. Would two spontaneously started weeks together be good for him? For both of them?

For his part, he was inclined to think so. If it didn't work out, then...what was the harm? A broken heart after only two weeks was nothing...comparatively.

“No, I think that should be okay.” Taemin relaxed beside him, and Jonghyun averted his eyes, turning his head to find the dogs again so he could hide his growing smile. “I guess I should go make us some breakfast, huh?”

“You’ll probably do better than I did.”

Jonghyun smirked, then schooled his expression as he looked back at Taemin. “Just relax out here with the dogs. I’ll call you in when it’s ready.” Taemin nodded, and Jonghyun grabbed his shoulder, hoisting himself up and heading back inside. “Wait, do you like coffee?” He looked over his shoulder at Jonghyun, nodding. “How do you usually take it?”

“Oh, uh…” His face scrunched in thought, and the word adorable crossed his mind. Maybe set up camp. Who’s to say? “I don’t remember. I just get it from a shop on my way into work.”

Jonghyun laughed. “I’ll let you doctor it up how you like, then.” And then he let the door close behind him.

Breakfasts were usually very simple fares for him, especially now that he didn’t live with the band anymore. Phillipe and Pierre were much better cooks than he ever was, which is why he couldn’t do much more than make some toast and scramble some eggs without the assistance of magic. So, once he got the coffee going, he started on the toast before grabbing the last of the eggs from the fridge.

Well, time to go grocery shopping again. He sighed heavily, then glanced at the door. Maybe Taemin would want to come with? He usually tagged along with Minho or Kibum or both of them, just so he wouldn’t have to brave the grocery store alone.

That, and their conversation usually drowned out the occasional Nebulous Stardust songs that would play throughout the store.

The toast popped up, startling the thought of his band out of his mind. He shook his head as he stirred the eggs for a few more seconds and took them off the heat, setting them aside so he could butter the toast and get plates for each of them. Then he poured the coffee and poked his head outside.

“Tae -- “ he started to call out, but then he stopped, grinning when he found him lying on the undoubtedly cold ground, the puppies clambering over him. “Breakfast is ready!”

Once Taemin stood, the puppies ran over to the open door and Jonghyun left it wide open for Taemin, who was a few steps behind, while he dished up their food and got them some water. Taemin was sitting at the counter sipping his coffee by the time Jonghyun returned, his plate before him. Jonghyun turned his back to him as he spooned some sugar in his own coffee.

“So, just out of curiosity,” Jonghyun said, gulping when Taemin hummed in question. “What exactly are you expecting to happen by the time you go home?”

Taemin coughed, and Jonghyun glanced over his shoulder before he twisted to face him, leaning against the counter and watching him expectantly. “I just...I don’t know...want to get to know you better. Is that okay?”

Jonghyun nodded, eyeing him as his attention returned to his meager breakfast. “What happens after, though?”

He smiled without looking up, then shrugged. “Whatever we want, I guess. We’ll just have to wait and see.” He looked up then, searching Jonghyun’s gaze before looking away.

Jonghyun sighed, then took a few more sips of his coffee before setting it aside. “I’ve, um, got to go grocery shopping later...would you like to go with me or would you rather stay here with the dogs?”

“I can come with you!”

“Let me just...oh, shit…” Taemin’s eyebrows shot up in question. “Your luggage. That’s probably still at the hotel, huh?”

“Oh, damn, I didn’t even think of that.”

Jonghyun snorted, cracking a half-smile when Taemin sighed in exasperation at himself. “We should probably go pick that up, too.” When Taemin just offered a sheepish grin, Jonghyun pushed away from the counter. “Let me just go get ready and we can head out.”

It didn’t take long for them to get ready to go. Jonghyun offered to let Taemin borrow some of his casual, No-Maj-passing clothes that Kibum had picked for him instead of donning the suit he had worn to the wedding. They were about the same size, Taemin a little lither than himself, so they fit fairly well. Jonghyun pulled on one of the old sweaters that Kibum’s grandma had knit for him that he kept charming to fit his now-adult body, a pair of jeans, and some boots. And, once the dogs' water was refilled, they were off.

“You don’t have to do the memory thing if we’re just coming right back, right?” Taemin asked as Jonghyun led him out of the wardrobe and into Madge’s shop on Canal Street.

“Nah, it should be fine. That’d probably get redundant,” Jonghyun said, waving to Madge as he led Taemin up the street. He looked curiously over their shoulders, no doubt searching for the ghost he couldn’t see. “Where’s your hotel again?”

“Uh…”

They ended up hailing a cab, since Taemin could only remember the address but not how to get there on foot, and Jonghyun was basically clueless when it came to No-Maj New York. When they arrived, Jonghyun roamed the lobby while Taemin got a new room key --he had misplaced his -- and packed up his stuff so he could check out.

Jonghyun, while he waited, found his way back to the piano. He sat at the empty bench, staring at the keys for a while before he raised his hands to let his fingertips graze them. He didn’t know much about playing the piano. Sure, he could pick out a tune and some of the chords that accompanied the melody, but the guitar had always been his preferred instrument, other than his voice. Still, he started to play. A simple melody, one that he had started to work the kinks out of in the final days of Nebulous Stardust.

“Sounds good,” someone said, startling Jonghyun enough to stop playing. He whirled around, finding Taemin staring at him in surprise. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to -- “

“It’s okay. Are you ready?”

He nodded, and together they went back outside, heading straight for Canal Street once more. Once they were through the Center and out onto the cobblestone lane of the Boulevard, Jonghyun stopped, grabbing his wand from his back pocket and laughing at Taemin’s wide eyes when he pointed the tip of it at his suitcase.

“What, you don’t want to lug this around the whole time we’re shopping, do you?”

“No…”

His eyes grew wider still when Jonghyun sent it flying away with a thought of /Depulso/ and his bedroom, his mouth popping slightly open as it disappeared around a corner. “Come on,” Jonghyun said, reaching for his hand and tugging him along toward the grocery store. “You can’t let them know you’re not a wizard, alright?” Taemin blinked several times, looking down at their joined hands until Jonghyun released his. “Technically, non-wizards aren’t allowed to be in wizarding communities. Or even know about them.”

“Okay, got it. Do you want me to hold that?” Jonghyun looked back at him as he grabbed the basket to carry his groceries in, then shook his head.

“Wingardium Leviosa,” he whispered as he pointed his wand at the basket, raising it easily to waist height and leaving it there.

Taemin gasped, all excited, then quickly schooled his expression as he looked around to make sure none of the other wizards noticed his reaction at such a simple spell. Jonghyun smirked, eyeing him for a second before he started forward, the basket on one side and Taemin on the other after he jogged to catch up to him.

Was he trying to be impressive? Perhaps. But, it wasn’t his fault that Taemin’s reactions were cute, okay?

“So,” he said once they reached the produce section. “Tell me about yourself.”

The shy, cute smile was back, and he looked around as Jonghyun grabbed a few oranges, then said, “I don’t know. There’s not much to tell.”

“Bullshit.”

Taemin licked his lips, smiling still, and for a second, Jonghyun let his gaze drop to them. The top lip was oddly shaped, he saw that now. Not that it was ugly. Nothing about Taemin was. It just…well, he found himself wanting to kiss him again, just to see if he could—

“Well, I guess, I’ve been into dancing all my life,” he said, the sound of his voice drawing Taemin away from his reveries. “My mom started my brother on it too, but he didn’t stick with it. I think she wanted girls if I’m being honest.”

“Why do you say that?”

Taemin shrugged, then laughed, stepping closer to one of the pots of baby mandrakes. “I think that turnip just glared at me.”

“Probably did,” Jonghyun said, slipping his hand around Taemin’s waist and guiding him away from the mandrakes before they started screaming.

“Anyways,” Taemin said, catching one of the dirigible plums before it floated away from its bin. “I wasn’t particularly interested in school, but I did okay. Mom was happy enough. My first,” he paused, squinting in thought, “sorta-boyfriend was one of my best friends, but I think we just spent too much time together. Broke up without telling our families about our relationship. We’re still friends, though.”

Still friends? Eh, guess he couldn’t fault him for that.

“I like his new boyfriend, though. Kinda quiet. Very funny. They suit each other.”

Jonghyun hummed, unsure of what else to say as he started for the dry goods section of the store.

“And then after I graduated, I went into the military.”

“Marines, like Minho?”

Taemin’s breathy laugh turned into a snort that drew a few of the passersby's attention. “God, no. I love myself too much for that. Military band for me.”

“What’d you play?”

He hummed, his brow furrowing as he read the moving labels on the soup cans Jonghyun was grabbing from the shelves. “Honestly? I can’t remember right now.” Jonghyun chuckled, glancing over at him with a smile. “After I got out, I went back to my old dance studio and they let me start instructing, which has been nice. Been doing that for a few years, now.”

“No other boyfriends since your first?”

Taemin shook his head. “Girlfriend, though.” Jonghyun blinked, doing a double-take as he looked back at him, but Taemin didn’t notice his surprise. “We broke up...what day is it?”

“Uh, first of November.”

“Right. Two months ago, then.”

Ah...so he must be the rebound then. He’d done the same with Pierre. Didn’t end well. “What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I was too clingy, I guess. That’s what Danbi said, anyway.” He sniffed a laugh, pointing to one of the bottles of premade potion, a few lizard eyes floating within it. “Are those eyes?”

“Yes. Shh, let’s go.”

It became quite the chore, keeping Taemin from revealing that he was a No-Maj to the rest of the shoppers. Jonghyun grabbed whatever he could think of -- he rarely made a shopping list, but today, especially, he was in a hurry -- and they checked out, laden with bags on the way home. The puppies greeted them excitedly, pestering Jonghyun as he put away his groceries until Taemin drew them away to the living room.

Once Jonghyun finished putting everything away, he found the coiled leashes for Comme Des and Garcons, slipping them off the counter and shaking them to get the puppies' attention. He tossed the red one to Taemin, who fumbled with it, but caught it. “That one is Garcons’.”

The chill autumn wind whistled around him as they walked down the cobblestone lane. Everyone still had their decorations for Halloween out — because, in Salem Boulevard, they usually went up mid-August and didn’t get taken down until the first of December. Taemin was still excited, though he wasn’t talking as much anymore. Just looking around, eyes bright and wide, taking everything in.

He still wasn’t quite sure what to think of him. Did he like him? Yes, he was funny and cute and sweet with a mischievous, playful side. The exact opposite of Pierre. But, well, again, he wasn’t sure. Should he open his heart up to this…No-Maj? Should he open his heart again at all? That had only given him pain before…

Or, maybe it didn’t need to be that serious. A two-week fling with a cute guy with low odds for ever crossing his path again? Sounded ideal. Just what he needed.

His eyes landed on Comme Des, then drifted over to Garcons, the sight of them reminding him of their owners. He sighed heavily, his breath pluming around him. Yeah, okay, maybe he wanted what they had. So what? Not everyone gets what they want…

“Woah, what’s that?” Taemin asked, his fingers grazing Jonghyun’s arm as he reached for him.

Jonghyun looked around him to where he was pointing. “Remember those weird nectarine things that were floating in the store?” He nodded, meeting Jonghyun’s gaze before looking back at the wild bush with floating orange fruit. “Those are that. Dirigible plums.”

“Can we go look at them?”

Jonghyun smiled, he couldn’t stop himself. “Sure.”

Taemin kept pressing down on them, only for them to float back up, higher than they had been. Technically, they weren’t supposed to take any of the wild ones, but no one was around and Jonghyun was just too soft when Taemin turned his pleading eyes to him. They did, however, have a bit of a hard time concealing them in their pockets on the way home.

Dinner was simple, even with the help of the cookbook Kibum had bought for him ages ago, but Taemin didn’t seem to mind. He ate his fill, then a bit more when Jonghyun cut up the dirigible plums they had picked and tossed them over some vanilla ice cream. Maybe he should have cooked them? Kibum probably would have, but Jonghyun wasn’t sure if he had any ingredients for that. Taemin didn’t complain, though, which was nice of him.

When Jonghyun came back from letting the dogs out one last time, Taemin was nowhere to be found. The puppies followed him up to his room when he ran up the stairs, both of them hopping on the bed once he reached the top stair.

The shower was running.

Jonghyun relaxed, his gaze continually trailing back to the door as he stripped out of his jeans and sweater. By the time he had slipped into his sweatpants, the water turned off. He froze, unsure of where to stand or look until the door cracked open and Taemin stepped through.

His damp hair clung to his forehead, and he grinned at Jonghyun as his hand settled on the towel wrapped around his hips. “Sorry, were you planning on showering?”

“Uh, no.” He gulped, his mouth suddenly dry as Taemin breezed past him, a hint of his musky body wash buffeting him. “I shower in the mornings.”

“Hm, should I have waited, then?”

He asked it so quietly that Jonghyun couldn’t be sure if he imagined it. Eyebrows raised, he followed Taemin’s progress into the room to where his suitcase lay by the bed. Ah, his cheeks and ears were a bit pink. Jonghyun smiled, looking away. Adorable.

“You don’t mind sharing a bed, do you?” Jonghyun asked as he turned and went inside the bathroom, raising his voice as he wet his toothbrush. “I wanna make sure you’re comfortable.”

He started brushing his teeth, jumping when Taemin appeared in the doorway. Their eyes met in the mirror. “I,” he cleared his throat. “I don’t mind at all.”

Jonghyun stopped brushing his teeth, pulling out his toothbrush just long enough to say, “Give me a minute,” before he continued.

Taemin was snuggled under the covers, hair and eyes and nose peeking out, by the time Jonghyun left the bathroom. Both of the dogs were curled up on the bed between his side and Taemin’s, making themselves quite at home. Sighing, Jonghyun crawled into the left side, flopping over on his back. He blinked a few times before he turned his head, amused to find Taemin watching him.

“Ready for the light?” Taemin nodded, and Jonghyun reached for his wand. “Nox!”

The lights winked out, blanketing them in velvety darkness.

“Can you do that again?” Taemin whispered into the night.

Since he had yet to find a counter jinx to the effect that Taemin’s excited interest had on him, Jonghyun relented, lighting and darkening the room a few more times until Garcons got up, barking at him.

Jonghyun set the wand aside, the darkness warm against his skin. He could barely make out Taemin’s silhouette in the pale moonlight streaming through the window. As he turned and dislodged Comme Des from his makeshift bed on his legs. He seemed to be hesitating. But why?

He sniffed in surprise when something damp and cold rested against his arm. Taemin stiffened beside him. “Sorry, I forgot…”

Did he want to cuddle? Or, something like that?

Jonghyun blinked rapidly, shifting closer to him. “It’s okay, I’m expecting it now.”

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the sheets and covers rasped together, and Taemin’s damp head rested on his shoulder, his arm draping across his middle.

He’d never really been held in bed before. Not even by Pierre. Sure, they slept beside each other for many years, and occasionally Pierre would indulge him, but it never lasted that long. When he was sure that Taemin had no intention of releasing him, Jonghyun slipped his arm around him, holding him closer still. And for the first time in living memory, he was asleep in moments.

When he woke, Taemin was still holding him. Still asleep. Maybe he was a little too warm, but right now, he couldn’t care less. Jonghyun looked down at Taemin’s sleeping profile, his thumb stroking lazily back and forth on his back. The urge to kiss the top of his head grew the longer he watched him, and before he could stop himself, he indulged the urge. Taemin’s face scrunched up a little, and he held Jonghyun a little tighter, but he didn’t wake.

He needed to get up, to get ready to head into work, to let the dogs out, but he couldn’t bring himself to detach Taemin from his side. Jonghyun shifted slightly, grabbing his phone. He had an hour and a half before he had to be at work, so hopefully, Taemin would wake himself up naturally before then.

Minutes ticked by, and nothing. Should he just get up? Leave Taemin to sleep peacefully while he got ready? He checked his phone again. One hour until work. He closed his eyes, sighing as he set his phone aside. Then he carefully extracted himself from Taemin.

“Where are you going?” Taemin mumbled once he reached the closet. He was sitting half up now, leaning on his elbow and rubbing his eye as he looked at Jonghyun.

“I have to get ready for work,” Jonghyun said, crossing the room to return to him. To kiss him good morning. As soon as he pulled away, Taemin blinked sleepily, his gaze searching his. “I can come back to check in on my lunch break,” he said as Taemin’s attention dipped to his lips. Jonghyun smiled. “Does that sound okay?” Taemin nodded, and Jonghyun kissed him again, lingering longer than he intended when Taemin’s hand slipped around his neck, holding him there.

In the back of his mind, he knew he had to get ready to leave, but there was something so addicting about him. He barely registered crawling back into bed, his only thought was of Taemin. And his lips and the way his kisses grew ever hungrier. His hands and the way they roamed his skin, holding him closer. Only when the alarm on his phone went off did Jonghyun pull away, and he stared blankly at it before he realized what it meant.

“Shit,” he muttered, and Taemin stopped kissing his neck, meeting his gaze when he looked back at him. “I really gotta get ready.”

With a great effort, he slipped out of Taemin’s arms and hurried to his closet, picking clothes at random. “I wish I could come with you.”

Jonghyun snorted, glancing over at him as he changed out of his sweatpants and into a pair of jeans. “Please, I need to be at least a little focused on work today.”

“Are you saying I’m distracting?”

He huffed a quiet laugh as he pulled on his boots and Taemin grinned. “You don’t mind looking after the dogs for me, do you?” Taemin shook his head and Jonghyun stood, walking over to kiss him one last time. “I’ll see you at lunch, then.”

While he did go home for lunch, he forgot all about the actual meal.

They fell into a rhythm, then, as the days passed. Each moment they spent together felt more natural and relaxed than the last. He’d gotten used to Taemin’s shyness, his clinginess. In fact, he couldn’t imagine why his ex had broken up with him because of it. Well, in any case, he was grateful to her. He hadn’t realized how much he had been craving someone like this. How had he stayed with someone as aloof as Pierre for so long? Obligation, perhaps?

Taemin was warm and friendly and funny and adorable when Pierre...well, actually, now that he was thinking about it, he couldn’t remember much about him. Especially when Taemin was around. Even the good points. True, he’d never be truly free of him. Pierre was a stain on his life that would linger in the back of his mind forever, but Taemin...Taemin filled his mind with such light that even thoughts of Pierre were fleeting when before they would linger long past their welcome.

When Monday rolled back around and it was time for him to go to work after the weekend off, Jonghyun could feel Taemin’s scrutiny as he got ready for work. He finally looked back at him after he pulled his head through the neck hole of his sweater, smiling at Taemin’s slightly forlorn expression. “Don’t look at me like that, you know I have to go to work.”

“It’s dumb.”

“I mean, you’re not wrong.” Taemin sighed, then smiled up at him as he returned to the bed to kiss him goodbye. “I’d rather not leave you either.”

“Then can I come with? Just until lunch?” he added quickly when Jonghyun’s brow furrowed. “You won’t even know I’m there, I promise.”

Doubtful, to be honest. But his track record for refusing Taemin anything in the few days that he had known him was not great. At all.

“Get ready quick, then, if you -- “ He didn’t even get a chance to finish. Taemin bounded out of bed and over to where his clothes hung in the closet.

After the dogs were cared for and they had a quick breakfast, they were on their way to the Center, Taemin’s hand slipping into his as soon as the door was closed behind them. Jonghyun swung their hands back and forth as they walked along, feeling warm despite the chilly autumn morning.

As with his experience with everything having to do with magic thus far, Taemin was extremely interested in whatever Jonghyun was doing up until lunch. Even when he was simply handwriting the labels and receipts for the different potions Crow made. He kept having to keep him from getting too near the spouts for the venomous tentacula. Sure, they were small, but somehow that made them even more vicious.

Still, it was cute to watch him interact with it all. Growing up around all of this, he never really thought too much about how amazing it must seem to an outsider. True, he reacted similarly whenever Minho -- or now, Taemin, as well -- showed him or explained a part of the No-Maj world that he’d never heard of before. He was just so amazed by what Jonghyun considered to be the simplest things. He kinda hoped that would never wear off.

“You ready for lunch?” Jonghyun asked as he wrote his clocking-out time down.

Taemin, who was absorbed in the copy of the Oracle that Jonghyun had translated into Korean for him, didn’t hear him until he asked again. “Yeah! Sorry…”

“It’s okay.” Jonghyun slipped out of his apron and came around the counter, holding his hand out for Taemin to take so he could lead him up to the food court.

He let Taemin choose where they went for lunch, which was -- yet again -- the sushi bar. They ate their fill, but still had a bit of time before Jonghyun had to be back to work, so they roamed the shops, Jonghyun explaining some of the magical tools and instruments that Taemin pointed out. That was until Taemin pulled him toward the music shop, which usually sat out of sight from the apothecary behind the Grated Tree.

Taemin looked up at the display window, watching the instruments play a symphony all on their own. Their music bled out from the closed door, the harmonies drawing them closer to it. Without asking, Taemin opened the door, peering in before he opened the door wider and slipped inside. After a second’s hesitation, Jonghyun followed him.

He shoved his hands in his pockets as he wandered around, following Taemin over to where the pianos were. After getting permission from one of the employees, Taemin started to play, his music drowning out the symphony from the display window. Eventually, Jonghyun meandered away, finding the guitars. His breath caught in his throat as his gaze landed on one in particular.

It was nothing special. Just your standard acoustic guitar. But, it looked almost exactly like the one Mom had bought him ages ago.

The one that he had left behind when he moved here.

His hand shook a little as he reached for it, gently taking it off its hook. He slipped the shoulder strap around him, getting comfortable, one hand holding the neck, the other poised to pluck the strings.

Had it been too long? He hadn’t touched a guitar in years. Would he remember how to play?

Tentatively, he pressed a chord into the fingerboard, his thumb strumming the strings. It was in tune, at least. He closed his eyes as he played another chord, then another, and soon, he was playing one of his old songs. The band hadn’t agreed on it, so it had gotten scrapped. He hadn’t even come up with a title for it, but somehow, he remembered it. He hummed along until the end, most of the lyrics forgotten.

When he opened his eyes, he found Taemin leaning against the shelves across from him, watching him. Jonghyun gulped, pulling the strap over his head. “No, don’t stop because of me, please. That was beautiful.”

“I have to get back to work.”

His fingers ached, the familiar calluses long gone, as he put the guitar back on its hook. They left without purchasing anything, and Jonghyun walked him to the Center’s exit, kissing him goodbye before he trudged back to the apothecary.

It was almost as if the music shop were staring at him, daring him to come back inside.

He was only able to ignore it for a few days, but then his resolve broke when Crow handed him his paycheck. As soon as he cashed it in, he withdrew enough to purchase the guitar. He practically ran home, the case swinging back and forth beside him.

“Look what I bought!” he said as soon as he toed his wet boots off and shook the rain out of his hair. “Where are you?”

“Upstairs!”

Taemin was almost as excited as he was when he showed him the guitar, and as soon as he was able to start dinner cooking itself, he camped out on the couch, his legs thrown over Taemin’s, and started working on tuning /his/ guitar.

“What was that song you played before?”

“One of mine. The band didn’t like the lyrics so we never used it.”

Taemin started tickling one of his feet until Jonghyun twitched it out of his reach, glaring at him before looking back at his guitar with a small smile. “Why didn’t they like them?”

“They have bad taste.”

“Clearly.” Jonghyun sniffed a laugh, digging his heel into Taemin’s thigh when he tried to start tickling his foot again. He stopped, grinning impishly at him as he shook his head. “Do you remember the lyrics?”

“Some of them. It’s been a while.” He could feel Taemin’s expectant gaze, so he found the chord that started the chorus on the fingerboard. “Such a beautiful view...and then someone is supposed to adlib, but I don’t remember what...Show me more...” Feeling slightly self-conscious, he stopped playing, his palm pressing against the strings to quiet them.

When he looked up, Taemin immediately dropped his gaze, helping Garcons up onto the couch. Jonghyun leaned forward to scratch him behind the ears as he curled up between them. “I know you said it’s hard to get back into music because of your ex, and,” he cleared his throat, “I get that. But…” He looked up then, meeting Jonghyun’s curious gaze. “I really hope you’ll be able to soon.”

“I think you’re just being nice. Because you like me so much.”

Taemin grinned sheepishly, fiddling with a string on the hem of Jonghyun’s jeans. “It’s possible, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

After dinner, Jonghyun returned to the couch with his guitar and Taemin kept Comme Des and Garcons occupied on the floor. He had grabbed one of his self-inking quills and a new sheet of parchment so he could jot down whatever lyrics came to mind as he messed around with the old tune. He was underlining a line he especially liked when he thought he heard one of the puppies yelping. He jumped up, his guitar set aside, when he realized that it was Taemin who had made that noise.

He was backing away into the kitchen, his eyes on a spot on the carpet, his face contorted in a fearful grimace until he looked up to find Jonghyun watching him. His face colored and he looked back at the carpet. “I know it’s dumb, but...but I’m terrified of bugs.”

“Bugs?” He nodded earnestly, still not looking up. Jonghyun stepped over Comme Des on his way to the kitchen where he had left his wand. To be honest, he was no fan of bugs either, but at least he didn’t have to touch them to get rid of them. “What kind was it?”

“Spider,” Taemin said, shuddering.

Jonghyun grabbed his wand and looked back to where Taemin had been. Garcons was sniffing the carpet, so Jonghyun made his way over, and sure enough, a large disgustingly hairy black spider was making its way across the thick shag carpet. Jonghyun winced as he wordlessly flicked his wand at it, levitating it. “Get out of the way, babe,” he said to Taemin, who darted back across the room and as far away from the floating spider as he could. Jonghyun took it to the back door, flinging it out into the night.

He closed the door, looking back at Taemin. He was sitting in the spot that Jonghyun had vacated, watching him with wide eyes. Jonghyun smiled reassuringly, then tapped the door with the tip of his wand and said “Reverbaro!”

A ring of light bloomed from the spot his wand tip touched, growing and growing until it consumed the kitchen, the living room, then disappeared up the stairs.

“What did you do?” Taemin asked, his voice a little hoarse.

“That’s a repelling charm,” Jonghyun said, setting his wand back down on the counter before he started for the couch. “It’ll keep any bugs away for a very long time.” Taemin’s mouth was slightly agape as he watched Jonghyun settle back on the couch and take up his guitar again. He was about to start playing again when he still felt his gaze, so he met his eyes. “What?”

“Can you come and do that at my place?”

“Sure. Just name the time.”

He strummed a few chords, glancing over at him and doing a double-take when he saw his incredulous expression. “Where have you been all of my life?”

“Oh, around. I’m here now, at least.” He set his guitar aside with a chuckle, then glanced up at Taemin, half-grinning. “You know, I might have to come over pretty often, to check on the charm once it's in place, you know. Make sure it’s still working for you.”

For a second, Taemin looked as if he were about to say something, but he changed his mind, deciding instead to kiss him. Much later, when all was dark and tranquil and they were still tangled together in Jonghyun’s bed, Taemin’s voice, soft and tentative, broke the silence.

“Would you really want to come over?” he asked, his fingertips grazing Jonghyun’s arm as he held him close. “To Korea, I mean. After I go home.”

“Of course I do.” The silence seemed to smile, and Jonghyun pressed a kiss to Taemin’s head. “I wish you didn’t have to go if I’m being honest. I kinda like having you around.”

“I kinda like being around you, too.”

“You just like me because I’ll take care of the bugs for you.” Taemin let out a breathy chuckle, then brought their joined hands up to kiss the back of Jonghyun's hand. “When does your flight leave?”

“At seven. Which means I should get there at five.”

Jonghyun stretched out, grabbing his phone. “It’s two-fifteen now. We should probably try to sleep.”

“Or…” Or? Jonghyun’s eyebrows rose as he set his phone back down. “I mean, who knows how long it will be until we see each other again…”

He sniffed a laugh as he rolled over, bracing himself around Taemin. Even in the faint moonlight, he could see the eagerness, the playfulness in Taemin’s eyes. “So, what you’re saying is that you can sleep on the plane.”

“That and we’re wasting our precious time, don’t you think?”

They did not, in fact, sleep at all. But then, Jonghyun would never complain about that.

Getting Taemin ready for the airport was peppered with yawns and lingering kisses. They only had to go back to the house twice for things that Taemin forgot, but then they were off, not holding each other’s hand only when Taemin loaded and unloaded his luggage from the taxi and when he went up to the front desk to check his bag. He plodded sleepily back over to Jonghyun once he was free of his luggage, melting into his open arms.

“I don’t wanna go,” he murmured as they swayed a little together.

“I’ll be there before you know it.” He nodded, then sighed before he tore himself away from Jonghyun. “Let me know when you get home, alright?” Jonghyun said just before Taemin leaned in to kiss him.

“I will.” He kissed him again, then again when Taemin was back in his arms. “I guess I should go.”

“If you must.”

Sighing again, Taemin slipped away, waving goodbye before turning his back on him and starting for security. Then he stopped in his tracks, turning on his heel. Jonghyun’s eyebrows rose in curiosity when he came back to him. “What’d you forget?”

“Not me. You.” He hummed in question. “The memory charm thing. You forgot to do that when we left the Boulevard.”

Oh right. Huh.

“Well, maybe I wanted you to remember everything.” Taemin’s concern melted away to fondness, and he smiled as Jonghyun pulled him into one last kiss. “See you later, babe.”

“Yeah, see you.”

He grinned, his eyes glimmering in the airport lights, and he turned, hurrying now for the line leading to security. Jonghyun watched him until he slipped past the security barrier and was gone. He could feel himself start to deflate a little as he turned away, trodding back toward the exit.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and Jonghyun dug it out, finding that Taemin texted him. He stopped walking, opening the message.

[5:06 am]

I can’t wait for you to come over We’re gonna have so much fun

Jonghyun smiled, glancing back over his shoulder to the security barrier. But before he could respond, Taemin sent a picture. A very unflattering picture, with his eyes wide with a weird expression, his chin pulled back to give him several double chins.

Look at how attractive your boyfriend is

Boyfriend...Jonghyun smiled at his phone screen, his heart fluttering. Yeah, he had to agree with him there.

You’re such a nerd

When Taemin didn’t respond right away, Jonghyun started walking again, saving the picture as he did. He’d set it to Taemin’s contact picture when he got home. After Kibum and Minho got back, he’d be heading straight to the Portkey Approval Office at the Center so he could head over to Korea on his next weekend off.

Actually, he was pretty sure that he and the clerks at the PAO were about to become very familiar with each other.

#Jongtae #SHINee fic #SHINee au #SHINee #Jonghyun #Taemin #year: after hogwarts #bonus material #is it weird to tag this with 'after hogwarts' since neither of them were there? anyways

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breaniebree · 3 years

Note

12, 13, 17, 19, 36, 59, 84 for new asks please!

Hi, Anon!

Thanks for asking! Love that there were so many!

12. Who is your favourite character to write for? Why?

Hmm... I think this changes depending on my mood. Lately it's been Tonks and Remus. I love writing their domestic bliss as well as Tonks being a badass Auror. I've been having fun with them. But usually I really love writing the Weasleys, particularly the brothers views on Ginny. I find them so fun, giving them each their own personality and Ron deserves so much love. He's just so awesome!

13. Who is your least favourite character to write for? Why?

Crouch. He's disturbing and disgusting, but that's how he appears to me and I can't change him or his gross ways. Also, I really hate writing from Draco's POV because I find him difficult and a bit of an enigma. I believe him to be an asshole, but very kind and attentive to those whom he deems worthy which makes him a contradiction to write sometimes.

17. Post a line from a WIP that you’re working on.

“Mum, we don’t know what happened. Everyone could be okay,” Ginny said, trying to keep her voice strong.

Molly merely held Ginny tighter as they stood there and waited for news.

19. Are there any stories that you’ve written that you’d really love to do a sequel to?

Hmm... I feel like everything I've written has more or less been completed at the end. Though I suppose I would like to write more of my Missing Moments one-shots, but I just haven't been inspired to do so as I've been so busy with A Second Chance. I do sometimes feel like I will need a sequel to ASC just to cover after the war, but we'll see ❤️

36. Can you give us a spoiler for one of your WIP’s?

Hmm, lots of spoilers here LOL. Um, yes, I can, the line (which I gave you 3 of) is from the last chapter I completed. The bit I am currently working on...

...and a flash of purple before he found himself flying through the air.

He grunted as he landed on his side, his ears ringing. His hand moved to his head, finding blood and he coughed as the room began to come into focus once more.

Grey smoke filled the chamber as purple flames erupted from the left side of the room. He blinked in confusion as the purple human torch disintegrated with a bang and a second rumble shook the chamber. Marble and stone collapsed as the flames shot out like long tendrils, stretching to reach everything in sight.

59. Which character(s) do you find the most difficult to write?

Most difficult for me tends to be Luna. I love her and I love her quirkiness, but I always find writing her is hard. I'm always worried I don't get her tone right, or her personality, or I take her a step too far or not far enough. Whenever I have her in a scene, I find myself second guessing everything I write and it's rather stressful to be honest LOL.

84. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

An excerpt I'm particularly fond of... I think I've said it before that this changes a lot depending on my mood, but lately I think it's the opening of my story ASC

They were dead.

They were both dead and it was all his fault.

He didn’t cry. He had no tears left in him to cry. He didn’t rage; he’d spent weeks doing just that, slamming his fists into the stones until his knuckles had bled; until his fingers were broken, but the pain never fazed him. He ate mechanically as the healer fixed his hands and the next day, he’d punched the stone all over again and again trying to feel something … anything.

He screamed. He shouted that he was innocent. He threatened to kill his former best friend, his brother. But it was for nothing.

It was all for nothing.

He was the one who had been betrayed; the spy who wasn’t; he was guilty in the eyes of the world and nothing he could say was going to change that.

And no one was listening anyway.

At first he thought that at least he would come. His best friend; the one who he had trusted most outside of the one who was his blood brother. The one who he had kept secrets for; the one who was so thankful and confused as to why they even called him friend, called him brother in the first place.

But he never came.

He too thought he was guilty; that he was just like the family that he had tried so hard to run from.

The days turned into weeks which turned into months. He paced; he ran on the spot; he spent hours doing push-ups and sit-ups; contemplated making a noose with his thin shabby sheet and just ending it until the rage consumed him once more. He was not going to take his own life; not while he was out there, the truly guilty party. The spy. The one that he had once called friend and brother.

The months dragged into that first year and his thin hold on his own sanity started to slip away from him as he counted the days, digging the rock into the stone to tally his sentence.

On his twenty-third birthday, he spent the day in fitful dreams; memories of the woman that he had called mother holding her wand above him and telling him how worthless he was; how spineless and unworthy he was to be in the Most Ancient and Noble House. He relived the feel of the torture curse, seeing his mother holding the wand; relived the pain of the belt that his father struck across his back and when he heard his own screams echoing in the stone cell — he clawed at the stone until his nails bled.

By the second year, he forced himself to transform the moment the memories came to the surface. He forced himself to think of happy thoughts, but he couldn’t remember any. Had he ever been happy? He was innocent. It wasn’t a happy thought, but it wasn’t a miserable thought either so they couldn’t take it away from him. He hadn’t murdered those people, true. But could he really be considered innocent?

It was his fault that they were dead; his decision; his stupid mistake.

He was innocent.

He was guilty.

He was innocent.

He was guilty.

He paced the cell back and forth as far as the chains would allow him; back and forth, marking the days each morning when he woke. He slept as a dog; woke to eat the gruel that they called porridge; one hour of push-ups; one hour of sit-ups, keep the body disciplined, keep the mind sane, he told himself repeatedly. He’d nap as a dog; wake to eat the gruel that they called stew and as the first wave of unhappy memories would unfold into his system, he’d transform and whimper in the corner.

By the third year, he had his routine down to a science. No one spoke to him. The healer came to check on him once a month; let him wash with a bowl of lukewarm water and a clean cloth. The healer never spoke and the soul-sucking creatures hovered as the healer trembled, waiting for him to finish so that he could leave. The moment that the healer was gone, he became a dog once more.

When he started his count into year four, he knew that he would die alone in this very cell. No one would ever discover that his old friend had been the real one to betray them; the real one to trick those who cared for him.

No one would ever know his story.

“Sirius?”

The voice sounded foreign, almost too far away. He recognized the Scottish burr, but he couldn’t place it. No one had spoken to him in four years, six months, and seventeen days. Was that his name? His head pounded, but for the first time all day it was clear, telling him that the soul sucking creatures had distanced themselves, at least partially, from his cell.

“Sirius Black?”

The hesitation in the voice now got his attention and he realized that it wasn’t a memory; someone was actually speaking to him.

Someone was outside of his cell.

He moved towards the bars, long thin fingers gripping the iron and his grey eyes bruised around the edges meeting the square beady brown eyes that he recognized so well and his heart stopped at the sight of them.

“Minnie?” he whispered hoarsely, the old nickname slipping out before he consciously thought about it.

The brown eyes rolled in exaggeration at him and for the first time in four years, six months, and seventeen days — he felt a bubble of laughter rising in his throat.

“Sirius,” she said softly, reaching to hold his ice cold hands where they clutched the iron bars tightly. “You remember me? I was worried that I might have been too late. The healer said… never mind. You know me.”

He shook his head, clearing the cobwebs that lingered there. “Yeah,” he said roughly. “Why are you here, Professor?”

Her eyes looked sad as she gripped his hands tightly from where they were clutched around the bars. “I’m sorry that it took so long, Sirius, I’m so sorry, but you are finally getting a trial. A trial to prove your innocence.”

His dark grey eyes met hers in shock. “What?”

“I don’t believe for a moment that you betrayed James and Lily, Sirius. I never have. James was like a brother to you and you… you loved that little boy. You deserve a trial. Maybe if we can understand why you…”

Sirius snorted now, his fingers gripping hers as he realized what she was saying. “You believe that I murdered thirteen people in a crowded street, but I didn’t betray my best friends. Interesting view you have of me, Minnie, my dear.”

“Sirius,” she said again, her voice quiet and stern. “I believe that you are innocent and I have been campaigning for you to be set free from the moment that you were arrested. Finally, the Minister has taken heed of my words and agreed to give you the trial you should have been given years ago. It will be in three days time.”

Sirius squeezed her fingers gently. “I am innocent, Minnie. I would never have betrayed them, never!”

McGonagall nodded, smiling at him. “I know. I will see you in three days, Sirius. I’m rooting for you.”

As he watched her leave, he felt the darkness pressing in on him once again and he moved away from the bars, letting his back rest against the cool stone.

Four years, six months, seventeen days — but he was getting a trial.

Thanks for the asks!

#ask me anything #harry potter fanfiction

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lupinlongbottom · 4 years

Text

Burning Bridges pt. 3

Neville Longbottom x Reader

Summary: Finally settling into her new role, (Y/N) has found her calling. Teaching is easier, now that she has a friend at her side. As taxing and stressful teaching can be, maybe some tea and a good chat can calm her mind.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Some swearing, slight bit talk about sex if you squint

A/N: AH! I love these two. They’re burning. Slowly, in my brain. Enjoy the pain!

Part 1 ... Part 2 ... Part 4 ... Part 5 ... Part 6 ... Part 7

It had been two months. Two months of teaching at the most prestigious wizarding school in the world. Many would argue that Ilvermorny could rival it, but many of those wizards were blind Americans, unknowing to the true superiority of the other school. Either case, to say that (Y/N) was swamped and stressed beyond her wildest dreams was an understatement.

“Can anyone tell me how many uses dragon blood has?” (Y/N) asked to her audience, doe-eyed first years. A hand shot up. “Mr. Butler.”

“Twelve,” the scrawny Slytherin retorted, looking pleased with himself.

“That’s right,” she smiled, crossing over to the blackboard. “Now, Mr. Butler, could you tell me each and every one of the magical properties it possesses? Giving it the twelve uses?”

The Slytherin sat silently, mouth slightly agape. “My mum only told me she used it to clean our oven…” he trailed, almost unsure of himself.

“Exactly! That’s one use, good job Mr. Butler,” (Y/N) scribbled in tight words ‘oven cleaner’ onto the black board. “Could anyone else help him out?” Another hand shot up, one of a Ravenclaw girl. “Yes, Ms. Hoyt?”

“I’m sorry, Professor (L/N), but are you expecting us to know all of the uses?”

(Y/N) smiled widely. “No,” Loud murmurs erupted from the classroom, confused at their professor’s response. “I don’t expect any of you to know more than one or two uses. You’re first years, barely begun reading your textbooks or learned anything about potions, so,” (Y/N) spun the blackboard around. “You should know I hate assigning papers, but I want you all to write me an essay on the twelve uses,” she pressed her wand to each bullet point. “Who discovered them, when we’re to use it and how to use it correctly,” more groans. “Be thankful you’re not in my seventh year N.E.W.Ts class right now, they’d take this assignment over the behemoth I gave them earlier today.”

“By next class?” a Hufflepuff girl inquired.

“No, two classes time,” (Y/N) said, smiling lightly. “I want you to take your time. I can imagine you have bigger fish to fry in your other classes, no?” the room grew silent. “Or perhaps not. Either case, take your time. Really comprehend the assignment, it’ll be in your best interest to do so,” the bell chimed. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

Murmurs of ‘thank you Professor (L/N)’ fluttered around the room, filling (Y/N)’s heart with pride. She began to clear her workspace, preparing for her third year class she had next. A Slytherin boy had stayed behind. “You’re going to be late to your next class, Mr. Butler,” she said, not turning around.

“It’s just Herbology,” he shrugged. “Professor Longbottom won’t mind.”

“I highly doubt that,” (Y/N) turned around, crossing her arms. “That man cares more about his plants than you could ever comprehend.”

“Tell me about it! I can’t stand it,” he huffed, slowly packing his knapsack up. “I wish I could just take potions all day, not have to worry about plants biting me.”

“Herbology is an important class to learn,” (Y/N) said, continuing to write on the blackboard, with her wand of course. She wasn’t a buffoon. “Many skills and information you learn in that class is pertinent to potion-making. What better way to learn about your ingredients than caring for the plant itself?”

“Did you like Herbology when you were a student, professor?”

“I enjoyed my professor,” said (Y/N) truthfully, thinking of Sprout. “I don’t have the patience, or green thumb, for it,” she laughed, recalling her various dead plants over the years. “Regardless, it’s important for you to learn.”

“That’s the same sap Professor Longbottom told me,” the Slytherin groaned. “Told me that it could be beneficial to potions class and whatnot. He says stuff like that all the time, connects it to potions. He said you’d agree.”

“He’s right,” (Y/N) clicked. Of course he said that. “I do,” she began scribbling on a small square of parchment. “Give this to Professor Longbottom, seeing as you’re going to be late, he might appreciate to know why.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled, grabbing the note, finally exiting the classroom.

(Y/N) allowed herself to sigh loudly. “Never a rest for the wicked, huh?” she mumbled to herself, finally finishing her preparations for her next class. Her mind trailed, recalling her student’s words. “He can’t possibly talk me up that much, can he?” She didn’t have much time to dwell on it, as the third years finally filed in, settling in their seats. “Right, welcome class. As you’re sitting down, please open your textbooks to chapter seventeen…”

“(Y/N)!” Neville shouted down the corridor, hoping to catch her attention. She turned around. “There you are,” he smiled, catching up to her. “Been looking all over for you.”

“Could’ve checked the dungeons,” (Y/N) jested. “I never seem to leave my lair.”

“Tell me about it,” Neville groaned, stretching his arms. “Been barely out of the greenhouses. I reckon I have dirt in places a person shouldn’t ever have dirt.”

“You should bathe more, then,” (Y/N) laughed, noticing the streak of dirt that danced across the bridge of his nose. “Or at least wash your face,” she signaled to the mess on his face, a finger tracing the space on her own.

Neville felt the heat rise to his cheeks, quickly rubbing his nose with the end of his sweater. “Thanks,” he mumbled, hopefully removing all of the mess. They arrived at their chambers, their own doors respectively. “Hey,” he hesitated. “Did you want to some tea? Gran sent me some herbal tea from her last trip,” he wrung his wrist slightly. “I know you like herbal.”

“I do,” (Y/N) answered honestly. “Like herbal, I mean. It’s my favorite. What kind?”

“Not sure, I think it has roses?”

“Bring it over,” (Y/N) nodded to her door, opening it. “I have some extra biscuits from my mum. Would make a good pairing, I think.”

“Oh, you want me to come over? I was just offering—”

“Merlin, I’m so sorry,” (Y/N) felt the heat rush to her ears, burning against her ears. “I didn’t realize that you were—”

“No, it’s fine! I can come over!” Neville practically shouted. “I mean,” he coughed, trying to cover his exclaims. “If you want me to come over.”

“Of course I do,” (Y/N) smiled. “We’re friends, right?”

Neville felt a grin pull to his ears. “Yeah, we’re friends.”

(Y/N) entered her chambers, immediately realizing what a mess she had left her living space. Scrolls and books littered the table, ink pots were left open with abandoned quills, a cauldron was burbling in the corner. “I suppose it’s not as bad as it could be,” she hummed, moving to start a kettle. Edgar was preening himself on the kitchen perch, allowing his excess feathers to fall to the ground. “Honestly Eddie, preen in the Owlery,” (Y/N) sighed, bending over to pick up the feathers.

“…turns out it’s a rose and saffron blend,” Neville laughed, entering her chambers. “Gran got really fancy,” another laugh. “(Y/N)?” (Y/N) yelped, hitting her head on the countertops, rising far too quickly. “Are you okay!?” Neville rushed over to the small kitchenette, noting the witch withering on the floor, hand held to her forehead.

“Been better,” She groaned, answering honestly. “Doesn’t hurt more than a knock-back jinx,” she laughed, recalling the various times the spell was used against her.

“Is that…?” Neville glanced at the barn owl, offering his hand to assist (Y/N).

“Edgar?” (Y/N) took his hand, pulling herself up. “Yeah. He’s grown a bit more distinguished since the last time you saw him I bet, but he’s still the little clumsy Eddie you remember.”

“He was hardly clumsy,” Neville crooned, reaching a hand out hesitantly to Edgar’s face. The owl leaned to the touch. “No more than me.”

(Y/N) laughed, taking the fistful of feathers and set them in a box, closing it gently. “I keep his feathers when I can,” (Y/N) mumbled, feeling Neville’s gaze on her actions. “They make fine quills, sometimes need them for potions… or maybe I’m just a sentimental mother,” she laughed. “Probably the latter.”

“It’s sweet,” Neville beamed. “You’ve always been the sentimental type.”

“It’s true,” (Y/N) replied honestly. “I’m as close to a hoarder as they come. It takes every ounce of restraint to not keep all the letters my mum sends me. I keep a few, only to laugh,” (Y/N) removed the screaming kettle from the stove. “She’s dating a muggle, you know.”

“Your pure-blooded mother? Dating a muggle?” Neville’s eyes felt as if they were as large as saucers.

“Shocked me too,” (Y/N) shrugged, pouring the hot water into light pink cups. Neville handed her the tin, allowing her to infuse the leaves properly. “She said it was a good change of pace,” (Y/N) allowed the cups to sit, the wine-red color seeping into the hot water. “He makes her happy, so who am I to judge?”

“Would you ever date a muggle?” Neville asked, absentmindedly. “You know, being pure-blood and all…”

“I would,” (Y/N) hummed, thinking about it lightly, leaning on her counter. “I don’t care much about blood status, unlike…” she shook her head. “That stuff doesn’t matter to me. I guess I would appreciate it if he was a wizard. At least it’d be easier to explain my profession,” she shrugged, glancing at her bubbling cauldron. Felix Felicis. Been working on it since moving into the castle. “What about you? You’re a pure-blood too.”

“Never thought about it,” Neville admitted. “Don’t really think much about that stuff. Never have, really.”

“Come off it,” (Y/N) poked Neville in his side. “You’re telling me you’ve never thought about dating a muggle?”

“Honest!” he laughed, moving away from her touch. “Ever since Luna and I broke it off, I put all my energy into the plants."

(Y/N) felt her face fall, just for a moment. The tea was done steeping. She handed Neville a cup, walking over to her deep purple couch. “You and Luna?”

“Yeah,” Neville rubbed his neck, sitting on the adjacent chair. “We didn’t last much past the one year mark.”

“You two seemed great together,” she lied, allowing herself to take a sip. The warmth flooded her senses, the taste lingering on her tongue. “You guys were inseparable seventh year,” another sip.

“I wouldn’t say inseparable,” he remarked. “Just had a crush. War does crazy things to people’s perspectives. Really thought we’d work out.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be,” Neville assured, taking a sip of the tea. He scowled a bit, never really liking rose tea. “It was mutual. We were both young and confused. Didn’t really know what we wanted…” He sighed. “Sorry, I try not to think about it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” (Y/N) replied, waving her wand, a tin of biscuits landing on the table. “I know we agreed to catch up on our lives, but if it’s a sore subject, we don’t have to...”

“A lot can happen in five years,” he shrugged. “Good and bad I reckon.”

“I dated Seamus,” (Y/N) smiled into her cup, changing the subject. “Only for a month or two. Still can’t decide if it was good or bad.”

“Get out!” he exclaimed, hopping onto his hands, rising high in the chair. “You and Finnigan?”

“That could hardly be a surprise,” (Y/N) scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Considering we snogged a fair bit in the Room of Requirement seventh year.”

“I guess,” he admitted, recalling catching the two practically sucking their faces off the other. “How was it? Dating Finnigan?”

“Slobbery,” she recalled. “We barely ever just sat down to talk. We usually just…” her face grew three shades darker. “Well, didn’t talk,” she coughed, noticing the redness in Neville’s face as well. “Like you said, we didn’t know what we wanted. Or needed, I guess.”

“Was he good? In bed?” Neville boldly asked, somewhat unashamed.

“Look at Longbottom, asking the naughty questions,” (Y/N) smirked, teasing the dark haired man further. “I don’t have anything else to compare it to. It was fine,” another shrug. “I mean, I guess it wasn’t sometimes. Would have to polish myself off rather often after if you catch my drift.”

“I do,” Neville sputtered. “Well, not like that. I’ve never had a problem with… that,” he set his cup down. “On my end though, I guess I never asked Luna if she… oh no. What if she—”

“Neville, you’re going to hurt yourself, just breathe,” she laughed. “I’m sure you were more than satisfactory in bed,” Neville took a deep breath. “Look at us, chatting about our sexual escapades like real adults.”

“Who would’ve thought?” Neville chuckled.

“Not me, that’s for sure,” (Y/N) smiled, enjoying the gentle company. “I’m glad we’re friends again.”

“Me too,” he smiled back, closing his eyes for a moment. “A bit different than before.”

“No kidding,” she took a bite of the tan biscuit. Sweet. “Instead of essays and exams to prepare for, we’re the ones writing the exams and stressing about lesson plans.”

“A bit over our heads, I reckon,” he laughed. “From what I can tell, the students like you.”

“Yeah?”

“Hear a lot from the first year class, especially Noah Butler. I think he has a crush on you.”

“Stop it,” (Y/N) said, rolling her eyes. “He’s just really into potions. I was that student at one point, you know.”

“Yeah,” Neville clicked. “But you never said Snape ever had ‘beautifully wonderful hair’ or ‘nice eyes’, did you?“

“Merlin’s beard. My student fancies me! He’s eleven!” (Y/N) roared, amused at the thought. “If anyone were to fancy me, he wouldn’t be at the top of the list.”

“Who would be? Professor Knight?” Neville slanted his eyes, cocking an eyebrow. (Y/N) was silent. “So it’s true. You two’ve been spending loads of time together, no?”

“Lance and I are just friends—”

“But you want to be more than that right?”

“It’s not wise to date a co-worker,” (Y/N) said, trying to convince Neville. Maybe herself. “He’s smart enough, sure. But…”

“Ask him out,” Neville said, shoving another biscuit in his mouth. “He’s not going to say no. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“Looks at me? Lance?”

“Practically undresses you with his eyes,” he laughed. “You two would be good together. You said so yourself, you’d date a muggle. He’s muggle-born, best of both worlds, right?”

“I suppose…” (Y/N) exhaled, thinking it over. “I just can’t believe Neville Longbottom is giving me dating advice.”

“I can be useful sometimes,” he smirked, finishing his cup of tea. “Say, is your bathroom connected to your room too?”

“Yeah, door next to the bed if you need it,” she pointed a thumb at her bedroom door. “Feel free.”

The Gryffindor excused himself, allowing himself to enter her bedroom. (Y/N) had decorated lightly, ivy dangling from nearly every corner of the room, just like her classroom. Moving photos dotted the walls, some of their friends, some of what Neville guessed was her family. Her room was orderly, less so than the living area in the room prior, work and private life separate it seemed. Her dresser, dark oak, had trinkets from her past littering the surface.

“Sentimental indeed,” Neville chuckled, noting the old Honeydukes box. He had gifted her that on her 15th birthday, it was filled with chocolate fudge. Not terribly magical, but she loved it none the less. His eyes glanced at the pile next to the box. “She kept a jumper from school?” He lifted the jumper. “Always loved wearing…” his eyes noted the stitching under the tag. His stitching. “Jumpers.”

“Find it okay?” (Y/N) called from the other room, slightly worried about her friend.

Neville shook his head, rapidly folding back up the cardigan. “Yeah, of course. I’m not that thick,” he called back. Quickly using the bathroom, he made one last check to make sure nothing seemed out of place.

“Had me worried for a minute,” (Y/N) mused, already on her second cup of tea.

“Got distracted by that photo of you, Harry and Ginny,” he lied. “When’d you take that?”

“At their engagement party. Gin practically begged me to take it,” she hummed. “But I’ve grown rather fond of that one. Ginny just looked so happy.”

“When do you think they’re planning to have the ceremony?”

“Ginny said something along the lines of February or March,” (Y/N) recalled, memories filtering through the various letters they had sent back and forth. “I wouldn’t be surprised to get an invite soon.”

“Me either,” Neville guessed. “Well, it’s getting late, got exams to grade and whatnot…”

“By all means, don’t let me keep you,” (Y/N) forced herself to finish her cup, standing up. “The company was nice while it lasted.”

“Yeah,” Neville retorted, practically scrabbling for the door. “Have a goodnight!” Just like that, he was gone.

“Odd,” said (Y/N), putting her china in the sink. “Guess he was always a bit odd, right Edgar?” The owl cooed, not paying attention.

It took exactly three glasses of firewhisky for Neville to calm down. He hated turning to alcohol, but he felt like there was no other choice.

“Why’d she keep the cardigan?” he mumbled, playing with his fingers. “I knew she never gave it back, but after all this time?” He shook his head, trying to read the answers on the exam in front of him. “It just doesn’t make sense!” Neville slammed a fist onto the table, rattling it. “Trevor, give me some advice.” He turned to his oldest friend, a bumpy toad sitting in a cage across from the table.

The toad croaked, eyes glossed over.

“I dunno,” Neville mumbled. “After today, the way she was talking about Seamus… Professor Knight…”

Trevor croaked again.

“Shut it!” Neville exclaimed, accidentally pouring his inkwell onto the parchment below. “Shit,” he quickly recited a spell, cleaning the ink off the paper. All of the ink, including his student’s answers. “Great.” He seethed, reluctantly giving the student full marks. What else was he to do?

“I thought I was over it,” Neville shook his head again, almost reaching for the bottle of booze sitting far too close to him. “Thought I could ignore it forever. Blimey, Trevor! We’re just becoming mates again and all I can think about is—is—damnit!”

The ruin around the grounds was massive. Boulders that used to be ceilings, bodies that used to be students, all littered around him. Neville’s head was reeling. Voldemort was gone for good. Dead. Never had the Gryffindor’s head pounded the way it was. Was it adrenaline? The fear finally leaving his body?

“Neville!”

He turned around, his shoulders relaxing at the sight of her. A cut was dripping across her forehead, flowing onto her pink cheeks. Her hair was down, her pink ribbon lost in the wreck. “(Y/N),” he mumbled, practically falling over the rubble to meet her halfway. Without thinking, his arms wrapped around the girl, pulling her in tight.

“I’m so glad you’re alive!” (Y/N) sobbed into his blood-stained jumper, hugging him tighter. “I got caught up… my mum’s here. I-I don’t know why, she wouldn’t tell me,” she shook her head. “But I can talk to her later. They’re saying you killed a snake? Helped defeat Voldemort?”

“I guess, yeah,” he responded sheepishly, eyes darting between hers. As he was about to open his mouth to continue, he couldn’t. A somewhat wet pair of lips was stopping him. (Y/N)’s lips. They were soft, supple, in comparison to his cracked and bleeding ones. Without thinking, he ran a hand up to her hair, feeling the locks tangle around his fingers, deepening the kiss.

She pulled away, expecting Neville to say something, anything. He looked down at her, confused, eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“(Y/N),” he pleaded, begging her to not let go.

“No, I don’t know what came over me. You and Luna…”

“What?” his eyebrows drew together harder, almost touching. “(Y/N) I don’t—”

“Forget it,” she released herself from his grip. “I—I have to go find my mum.” (Y/N) ran away, mumbling something else Neville didn’t quite catch. He stood still, body paralyzed to the one spot, hardly noticing the streak of pink that rested by his boot.

He decided that the exams could wait until morning, the third year class not meeting again until the day after next. He needed sleep like he needed to breathe, mull over his thoughts. Falling flat on his face amongst his covers, Neville tried to fall asleep, ignoring the scent of her bleeding from his clothes.

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bi-the-way-i-love-bunnies · 4 years

Text

(In which Draco can’t cook to save his life au along with a dash of Christmas spirit)

Drarry drabble ~ 10/19 ~ about 3.5k

“Pansy.” Smoke was starting to crowd the room. Said girl remained oblivious as she scrolled through her phone.

“Pansy.” The flame on the stove got bigger than Draco would have liked. He debated on using an Aguamenti, but wait, didn’t that weird muggle cookbook warn something about using water with an open flame? Regardless he wasn’t taking any chances. Pansy, the cow, only gave a small hmm and continued on with whatever she was doing.

“PANSY!” Ok that was it, he put a protective bubble around the stove just in a nick of time. He looked at the pot that started to burn inside the blazing inferno. And it has been a housewarming gift from Mrs. Weasley too. Regardless, he allowed himself a small moment of relief for dealing with one of the many problems that happened in the kitchen today. Small mercies he supposed. And that’s when the fire alarm started beeping persistently.

In a frenzy, he tried putting up a silencio charm, but it kept wavering and wearing off. His spells never did work well when he was worked up in a mood. The smoke was fogging up the kitchen more than ever now too, much to Draco’s dismay. Harry was not going to be happy about the lingering smell later.

The timer on the counter started going off signaling that the roast in the oven was done. At the same time the small pot next to the bubble charm of heat started to over boil due to his neglect when dealing with everything else.

“Oh for fuck’s sake Draco,” Pansy finally looked up from her phone. She quickly casted her own silencing spell and vanished the smoke in the air. Right...now that his main problems were dealt with he quickly got to attending the roast. He put on those ridiculous Chudley Cannon mitts gifted by Ron from last Christmas (why they never got to replacing these hideously bright orange mitts he’ll never know) and got to work. He was pleasantly surprised to see that the roast looked exactly like it was supposed to in the muggle cookbook, a large victory in his disastrous attempts at cooking.

He lifted it out of the oven planning to get it onto the counter quickly when the large pan collided with the edge of the oven door. It all happened too quickly, but one moment everything was perfectly fine and the next the pan shifted way too far right and his perfectly cooked roast stumbled onto the floor!

“Shit!” Draco cursed and ran to the counter to grab a napkin when he slipped onto the floor, his arse landing in the sauce used to marinate the meat.

“You know when I asked you to help me I didn't mean for you to just sit on your arse scrolling through that muggle device of yours,” Draco glared.

Pansy rolled her eyes but took pity on him as she waved her wand to clean up the mess on the floor minus the roast.

“Should we try Scourgifying it?”

Like that would help save dinner, he sighed. Not to mention it was unhygienic and Harry would throw a fit if he found out.

“Just vanish it, it’s useless anyways.” She nodded and a second later the roast was gone.

“At least you’ll have the creme brulee. And the potatoes,” she spared a glance at the pot that was overboiling a minute prior before grimacing. “Ok, maybe not the potatoes but who needs dinner when you have dessert anyways.”

“Watch it turn out just as well as everything else,” he remarked and got up from the floor to check what was left of his cooking attempts.

He went to the fridge to check on the little ramekins. Earlier they looked fine, but knowing his luck he’d have to test it before serving.

Pansy handed him a spoon as he dug in and took a bite. A moment later was all it took and he quickly rushed over to the sink and spat it out.

“Pansy, did you use salt instead of the sugar earlier?” It was one of the only times Pansy decided to help in the kitchen. She reasoned earlier that if she was going to help, at least it would be on the dish that requires the least amount of effort.

She shrugged and took a bite of Draco’s neglected creme brulee before making a face. “Well...they did both look the same. And they’re in matching containers, Draco, what did you expect!”

“I just wanted to make a good dinner this year,” he sighed in defeat. Each year their friend group always got together and drew straws to see who’s house they were going to for Christmas dinner. Everytime he and Potter hosted, the Gryffindor prat would always suggest going to that all night buffet around Ron and Hermione’s place.

“Hey, it’s all you can eat, saves the hassle of cooking, and they give war veterans discounts.”

Draco couldn’t really argue against that and so they all went last year. He had to admit that the food was pretty good, but there was something about a nice home cooked meal on Christmas night that you just couldn’t replicate.

Draco learned long ago that Harry simply did not cook. Not that Draco was judging, since he couldn’t cook as well. He’d rather leave that to the house elves, thank you very much. However, the difference between the two was that Draco was willing to try on the occasions where they had free time. Also, he was rather curious about the recipes Pansy was always going on about. Harry just usually shook his head each time and suggested they order take out. And in the three years that they have been together, two since they moved into a rather spacious flat at the heart of muggle London, he just accepted his boyfriend’s answer without ever looking into it. He just couldn’t be arsed about doing all the prep work and washing up afterwards.

This Christmas though, they got picked again, and he’ll be damned if Potter thought they could just go to that buffet place again. So the night beforehand when he told Harry he was making dinner this year, the git just laughed and wished him good luck.

“You had house elves your whole life, Draco. And cooking isn’t as easy as it appears on the telly.”

So Draco set to work that morning to prove Harry wrong, starting even before the git left for work. But hours later and now he was here with a nearly burnt flat, no food to show, and a really smelly kitchen. Oh yeah, and there was Pansy being no help at all.

He supposed if he hurried, he could use magic to make the food instead of relying on the muggle way. But apparently magic took away the flavor, according to Potter and after the day he had, he just wanted to give up. Suddenly the buffet idea was starting to sound appealing again. But screw him, he just wanted a nice dinner this year and at least he tried! The same couldn’t be said about his arse of a boyfriend, no matter how much he loved him.

He looked at the mess he made before grabbing his wand. No need for the flat to stay in this state before Harry got home.

“Right. Help me start cleaning Pans.” Reluctantly, she did what she was told.

The two set to work for an hour or two before the floo flared up and Harry entered their flat.

“Hey,” he greeted Draco with a quick kiss before turning to Pansy and giving her a small peck on the cheek.

“How was he today?” he asked her as he started to take off the outer layer of his auror robes.

She rolled her eyes, “As great as you’d expect a Malfoy to be in the kitchen.”

“Hey! I’ll have to remind you two that I was brilliant at potions. My skills are not that abominable.”

Pansy gave him a look before moving on. “Don’t mind him being such a twat, Potter. He’s just sad that everything he made didn’t turn out to be on the same scale as Mrs. Weasley’s.” She took her coat off the coat rack before making her way towards the floo.

“Ta dears. See you in two days,” she took a handful of floo powder before giving the couple one last glance. “And Draco darling. The day hasn’t been a total bust. It was just as entertaining as I thought it’d be.” She gave him a wink and then she was gone.

“Tosser,” he muttered, a tad too fondly if the look Harry was giving him was to go by.

“Are you sure you don’t want to order from a deli or something,” Harry wrapped his arms around Draco. “It could even be from that expensive place on Bulbadox Avenue that you like so much. I checked and they’ll be open.”

Draco rolled his eyes before returning Harry’s hug and relaxing in his lover’s embrace.

“We could save that as a backup plan or something, but I’m planning to make a better meal tomorrow.” Not that he’d think he’d do any better.

Harry snorted. “We found out you’re shit at cooking, just like the majority of us knew. Why don’t we spend the next day doing something relaxing. We could go and visit the market place near Diagon Alley. When it’s dark all the lights would be really pretty, and Hannah says they have a spectacular light display this year.”

“Alright,” he agreed, “We could go later after I get our flat ready for our guests.”

Harry pulled back a bit and made a face. “Are you sure? No offense Draco, but judging from what Pansy said I really don’t think you should waste your breath.”

“I’m quite sure, Potter.” And they left it at that.

The next day’s attempts were as disastrous as the first one’s. However, Harry definitely knew a lot more than Pansy and tried containing the damage as best as he could.

“Wait! Draco, put that on simmer.”

“Hold on! Don’t peel like that! You don’t want to take off a chunk of skin.”

“Draco! Oh God, where is the baking soda!”

And so the fire department came after their neighbors called. That was a fun exchange to watch as he saw Harry stumble through explanations on what happened, his face rivaling Ron’s hair.

By the end of the afternoon they were both exhausted. But since it was Christmas Eve they decided to go to the marketplace just like they planned. Draco was glad they decided to go, as he found out that Hannah wasn’t exaggerating. The light display was truly spectacular this year.

He walked with Potter hand in hand as they made their way around different booths. They ended up buying an assortment of jams, cheese, and bread seeing how that one bread booth had some quite delicious samples.

They were making the last of their rounds around the giant fountain at the center of the square when he overheard a family talking about their plans to make a special Christmas dinner the next day. He felt the tiniest sense of disappointment as he remembered his failed attempts earlier.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Harry asked as they passed by a ginormous Christmas tree lit up with streams of garland and fairy lights. If you looked closely you could see some actual fairies dancing around the branches. The sight put a smile on Draco’s face.

“Just thinking about Christmas dinner. I really wanted to make something special this year.”

“Oh,” he could hear the frown in Potter’s tone, “But I thought you’d rather not deal with the hassle. Not to mention all our friends are coming by and I know how much you hate it when the flat’s a mess. Specifically since we know how Ron gets when he starts with the firewhiskey.” Draco shrugged.

“I think I’m just being nostalgic about it,” he mused. “I know you don’t talk about your childhood all that much, but during Christmas time at the manor, mother and father would always gather all their Pureblood friends and all the elves would prepare the best meal to impress all the guests. There’s just something special about having a meal like that, despite some people insisting that buffet food is just fine.”

Harry let out a small grin. “Yeah, sorry about that. Last year was the last time, promise.”

The teasing tone was familiar between the two of them, yet it didn’t last long before Harry drifted deep in thought.

“It’s not that I don’t like cooking, it’s just- well. I’m rather shit at talking about these things,” he untangled his hand from Draco’s and shoved it in his pockets. Draco let him, knowing his posture meant that he’s working his way to saying something important.

“My aunt and uncle had meals like that too. They’d invite their friends and leave the children to play outside with Dudley while the adults talked. And Aunt Petunia...she always made sure I knew how to prepare for dinners like that. Sometimes I’d watch from the kitchen window and envy the kids playing in the yard.”

It was much more than Harry told Draco beforehand that was for sure. They had their talks about the war and the effects it had on the both of them, but whenever they touched upon Harry’s childhood, he’d just explained that they were not the nice people who took them in as the public portrayed. He’d always left it at that saying that it was in the past. But now Harry was working up the courage to tell him specifics. It left a warm fuzzy feeling inside Draco’s chest and he extended an arm to touch Harry as a silent appreciation of trust.

Slowly, Harry relaxed and intertwined their fingers again.

“I choose not to cook mainly because I don’t have fond memories of doing it. My aunt would always have something to say, even though eventually I got pretty good at making food. She just did it out of habit, I think.”

“Your family sounds like they were an arse.” They stopped walking and Draco turned to face Harry. “It’s alright if you’re not going to cook in the future. Just know that I love you and appreciate it that you’re choosing to share this with me.”

He leaned in and the pair shared a nice slow kiss before parting and heading back.

The next day, Harry was in charge of taking care of dinner, since Pansy flooed earlier asking for Draco’s help in some last minute shopping.

“I swear Pans! Didn’t you learn anything from Christmas last year?” he huffed at the busy streets of Diagon Alley, “Melin, I’m not even sure if most of the shops are open!”

So for the next few hours they went from shop to shop looking for Salazar knows what. Pansy was a very selective gift giver and everytime Draco made a suggestion she shot him down.

“This is made with opals from Australia Pansy! I don’t understand how your friend would not like that!”

“Hmm,” she browsed through the display cases in the shop, “I think she’d rather have a nice rock honestly. It doesn’t have to be Australian, but stones and crystals are rather in right now…”

When it was time to go home he was feeling quite exacerbated with his friend. Pansy, in all their hours of shopping, only bought one object.

“You still realize that I have a flat to set up right? And I’ll have to place a break proof charm on everything, knowing all the Gryffindors in our group.” Why couldn’t Harry be in Slytherin like the sorting hat wanted, honestly! Pansy just gave him a small salute as they parted ways. Tosser.

When he returned home, however, a delicious smell was coming from the kitchen.

“Harry?” He made his way into the room and was greeted with the sight of his lover pulling out a roasting pan, fresh from the oven. His eyes widened as he looked over all the dishes on the countertop. The assortment of appetizers and side dishes made his mouth water. He honestly thought that Harry was going to order from the deli just like he planned, but this was by far a thousand times better. Suddenly he knew why Pansy dragged him out all afternoon.

“I seriously can’t believe I didn’t see this sooner! Plotting with my best friend behind my back Potter? How Slytherin of you.”

Harry laughed as he placed the roasting pan on the counter before taking away the aluminum foil on top revealing a nice baked ham. “Yeah, when I told her I wanted to surprise you she went for it straight away. She said she felt sorry for you the other day, and you should be glad she took pity upon you because now you have that dinner you wanted.”

“That sounds like Pansy alright,” Draco rolled his eyes but let out a fond smile. He knew Harry revealed that he already had some culinary experience, but he hadn't anticipated this. Although now that he thought about it, if he had to go back to school and was told to recreate a calming draught potion, his muscle memory would guide him through it. It seemed like Harry hadn't lost his touch on cooking either.

“Would you like a walk through the menu tonight?” Harry smiled as he set his oven mitts aside.

Draco nodded as Harry pulled up the first appetizer. “So these are drunken peaches with bits of goat cheese and prosciutto tucked in phyllo pastry.”

He presented another dish that looked like mini sandwiches with tiny toothpicks speared through. “Here’s some grilled peach caprese with mozzarella and basil topped with a basic balsamic.”

He pulled up the salad bowl, “Fig salad with greens, goat cheese, and walnuts marinated with oil, vinegar, and honey.”

He moved on, “And here’s some roasted asparagus wrapped in prosciutto served with a hint of parmesan and drizzled with olive oil.”

Draco couldn’t resist taking one and plopping it in his mouth. “You know that asparagus is my favorite.”

Harry smiled fondly, “I know.”

He pulled up another plate, “That’s why I had to use it in another dish as well.”

It was a smaller dish than the ones Harry showed him beforehand, yet it still looked amazing. “Smoked salmon with poached eggs, roasted asparagus, basil pesto, and dill topped with olive oil.”

He pushed another plate forward. At the center was a type of bread surrounded with an assortment of crackers on the plate. “Baked brie and apricot preserves wrapped with puff pastry and a hint of honey.”

Another dish, “Golden roasted potatoes with chopped garlic, rosemary, and other spices.”

“Your classic mashed potatoes and gravy boat.” Harry winked, and Draco laughed. Harry really liked his potatoes, so it was no surprise that he’d prepare two types.

“Then all we have left is the honey baked ham and dessert for later on.” He shrugged like he didn’t just make enough food to feed the whole Weasley clan.

“Oh?” Draco prompted as he slid closer to his lover, “And what’s for dessert?” He gave him a heated look.

Harry easily accepted Draco’s embrace as he leaned in.

“You could choose between a mini chocolate lava cake paired with a raspberry sorbet,” Harry teased the shell of his ear causing Draco to shiver before moving downwards, “or a vanilla chiffon cake with a fresh berry puree topped with a blueberry cream cheese frosting,” Harry muttered against his lips as he pulled Draco closer. Sweet Salazar, that shouldn’t have sounded better than the earlier dishes, but it did.

Draco smirked, “And if I choose you?”

Harry grinned, “That can be arranged.”

Draco teasingly dragged his lips across Harry’s before connecting them sweet and slow. Things were just getting more heated when their floo flared.

“Eww mate. I will never get used to that, ever,” Ron grimaced as Hermione came through behind him. Draco was really regretting their open floor plan right now, but accepted one last kiss from Harry before making their way over to greet their friends.

“Honestly Ron. It’s been years,” she accepted a hug from her best friend. “Dinner smells lovely by the way.”

“Yeah! Did Harry finally get to cooking or did you two find a new catering place or something,” the four of them moved into the kitchen.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “You guys knew that Potter cooked?”

“Well, there was that whole year we spent together in a tent,” Hermione replied, “Someone had to be the designated cooker, otherwise Ron would’ve gone insane.”

“Hey!” Ron protested but didn’t disagree.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I finally got to cooking. But you should’ve seen when Draco attempted it at first!”

“A Malfoy cooking? What, has the world finally come to an end or something,” Ron joked and earned a small nudge from Draco.

“It really wasn’t that bad,” he protested but in truth, he knew it was.

Harry smirked at him. “Did I tell you how the fire department came the other day? The neighbors were seriously concerned about Draco burning the apartment complex down.”

“Shut up Potter!”

Harry grinned and couldn’t help but challenge him. “Make me,” he moved closer.

Ron let out a groan, “Ok Mione. Time to move back to the living room yeah?”

Harry let out a laugh as he watched Hermione lecture Ron about letting them have their moment.

He and Draco remained in the kitchen as they started to set up a bit more, waiting for their other guests to arrive, just enjoying each other’s company.

“Harry,” Draco prompted after a while.

“Yes Draco?” He looked up from the napkins he was just setting down.

Draco smiled before placing the silverware down to join him. “Thanks for cooking for me.” He gave him a chaste kiss.

When he pulled back Harry couldn’t help his reply, “Always.”

#drarry #drarry fics #hp drarry #drarry fic #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #harry x draco #who writes a christmas fic in the middle of october? lol #this is just be wanting food basically #enjoy me being self indulgent while i try satisfying my cravings #harry's a good cook #draco sucks at cooking #established relationship #hp fanfic #hp fic #haha who doesn't like food #my fic

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yamithediaperdork · 3 years

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Harry potter and the set of trigger words part 1 (..harry potter...duh.)

A odd fact not known to many, as it turned out your normal run of the mill wizard was actually quite easier to put under trance and implant key words even with only a basic knowledge of hypnotism. This would be a fact Harry discovered to his delight having gotten interested in it over the course of a summer and trying it out for fun on the train ride to Hogwarts. Of course with him using it on his friend the triggers were just harmless ones, like every time Ron would hear a five sharp knocks on a door he'd bark like a dog, Or Hermione becoming a stereotype ditz if she was offered bubble gum till the flavor ran out. He also quickly removed said trigger once they got to the school and erased the memory of the act of them ever being in place. However, encouraged by the success of his little experiment, Harry would slowly work his way up with more and more amusing/twisted triggers on students he wasn't all that fond of till he came up with the perfect set for one blond haired prat: Draco Malfoy. Getting the blond twat monkey alone to work his mojo hadn't of been easy, but once it was done and Harry had removed the memory of the triggers even being place, it was time to sit back and have some fun. Still Harry tried to at least be semi fair about it, and promised himself to only use his new found powers if Draco was being a true and utter pain in the backside. which, again, this was Draco we were talking about, only took all of a day from the planting.

"ugh, did somebody cut the cheese?" Draco asked, walking into the dinning area and moving pass Harry, Ron and Hermione. He paused and then leaned down, taking a over the top sniff of Ron and then held his nose. "oh guess not, it's just a weasley!" He said and laughed, prompting his two loyal thugs to laugh with him even if the dim look on their faces meant they didn't get the joke. "really? reduced to making fart jokes Draco?" Hermione asked and rolled her eyes, moving in a bit closer to Ron and then wrinkling her own nose. the red head had skipped a shower after practice that day and well, did smell a bit ripe. "Ha! See? even you think he stinks!" Draco crowed and hooted with laughter. "You know Draco, it's not nice to tease others. Ron will smell fine once he gets a shower in but YOU'LL always just be a 'dirty boy'" Harry said, sipping some pumpkin juice and smirking. "Really? thats the best..you..got..?" Draco scoffed back but suddenly he felt weird and found himself starting to pop a squat. "ah..what are you doing?" Crab asked. Draco went to answer with his mouth, but a blast of ass gas from his rear handled the reply for him and then as his thugs looked on in disbelief and Hermione and Ron and Harry looked on with amusement, the back of Draco's jeans started to puff out as a horrid stench filled the area. "Is he crapping himself?" Ron asked, laughing and pinching his nose shut. "N-No! I'm not a stinky baby pants pooper!" Draco whined and then even as he was clearly fighting himself, he popped his thumb into his mouth and started to suckle on it as he kept destroying the seat of his pants. "I guess Draco's jealous of Ron's stink and wants to top it~ 'Isn't that right baby Draco?'" Harry asked. Hermione was moving back to the other side of the table where the air was a little fresher but had to turn and watch in amusement as now only did the teary eyed blond nod his head up and down, helpless to refuse the command but he also lisped around his thumb making drool run down. "Yesh 'arry. Ous wight." Draco whimpered and as he finished with the back of his pants, he closed his eyes and relaxed his bladder soaking the front. "Gah watch it!" Ron cried up, jumping up on the table before the smelly puddle the blond was making could reach him. Crab and Goyle had like wise stepped back away from Draco in part to avoid the puddle and the smell and to avoid being seen as besties with the pants pooping dork. Harry had been about to unleash his next command but instead decided to call off the torment for the moment as a certain raven haired potions master was storming towards Draco and did NOT look pleased. "Head's up stinky boy, your uncles coming." Harry advised and leaned back, casually munching on a slice of pie. 'dinner and a show..never a dull moment at Hogwarts.' he thought. Sadly it wasn't much of a show as Snape just wordlessly took Draco by the ear and led him off, taking the time to turn around and use a spell to clean up the mess the blond had left behind. "heh, I'd like to be a fly on the wall for that conversation." Ron mused. "Which the smell coming off of him flies wouldn't look out of place either." Hermione giggled, and that set them all off laughing.

it wasn't till they were in the relative quiet of the dorm room (a glare from Snape had sent the few slytherin's who had been sitting in the common room scampering off) That Snape finally spoke up to the blushing and ashamed Draco. "I thought you were done with this childish behavior after we had that talk during the summer young man." Snape said. "I..I wasn't doing it on purpose! Someone muse of cursed me or something!" Draco whined pathetically. this couldn't of been worse for the blond, his body just betraying him like that after that summer while Uncle Snape had been visiting he'd caught Draco purposely soiling himself and bouncing in it! "Considering you've been with your friends all day and no one took out a wand in the dinning room, I think that's highly unlikely." Snape said dryly. "Do you remember what I told you before?" Draco started to full on bawl and rub at his eyes, which combined with his soiled garments made him look like a over sized toddler. "T-That if you caught me messing m-myself like a little boy again y-you'd dress me to fit the role.." Draco sobbed. "Please! I'm telling you, it wasn't on purpose! give me anther chance!!" "It's against my better judgement to do so..but I also don't wanna be the uncle of the only nappy lad waddling around the school. there will be NO more chances though young man, do I make myself clear?" Snape asked. If Draco hadn't of already let all of his wee out in the dinning room, he would of soaked his pants here at the tone of his uncles voice and hiccuped and nodded. "Oh for heavens sake.." Snape sighed and waved his wand, a oversized green soother popping into Draco's mouth and the poor lad found himself forced to suckle on it. he couldn't even seem to tug it out of his mouth and whimpered and pointed at it, looking at his Uncle. "It'll come out once you get cleaned up. and after you're clean, strait to bed. no supper for pants pooper's." Snape said and then walked over, leaving the confused and ashamed boy the less then pleasant task of cleaning up. 'I just know Potters behind this somehow..' Draco thought and due to the heavy load in his seat, he was forced to waddle to the bathroom to clean up. the only saving grace of everything was that Draco was so tiny downstairs his uncle had never been able to notice that despite how ashamed and humiliated he was, Draco was rock hard.

word of Draco's accident spread like wild fire though the school and even though the teachers tried to encourage a forgive and forget policy Draco had simply made too many enemies in the school and was forced to endure multiple taunts, and worse, well meaning teachers calling him up to their desks several times a class and asking if he needed to use the rest room. the consent teasing had a effect of making Draco keep his fat mouth shut for a change and true to his earlier self promise Harry left him alone, though lord knows he longed to test the rumor he'd heard that Snape was prepared to put Draco back in nappies should he have anther accident.

At dinner that evening Harry noticed that Draco was sitting alone, other students had bunched in together as close as possible just to avoid being near him 'in case he went off' again. Feeling a tiny bit of guilt Harry, after clearing it with Ron and Hermione, got up to go and invite the poor git to sit with them. Draco was munching slowly on a piece of bread, resting his head on a fist and staring off with a million mile stare when Harry got his attention. "Hey Draco, I wa-" Harry started but was cut off as Draco yelped and jumped, snapped out of his daze. this got more laughs from the other students and Draco fumed and blushed as he glared at harry. "What do YOU want?" he huffed. "I was wondering if you wanted to come over and sit with me and my friends..you look a little lonely." Harry said, forcing down the urge to make Draco disgrace himself. the blond HAD had a rough day after all. "Do you really think I've sunk THAT low I'll take your pity just like that potter?" Draco huffed and leaned forward. "I don't know how, but I know for a FACT that somehow you were behind what happened yesterday. So thank you, fuck you." and Draco tossed the rest of the bread in his hand at Harry's head. "BYE!" eye twitching Harry clenched a fist and for a second thought of taking a swing at the brat, but again cooler heads prevailed because to be honest, Draco had EVERY right to be pissed with Harry and was on the nose. Still, he couldn't just let that go away totally unpunished and snorted. "Fine whatever. 'Why don't you just sit her and sulk while you suck on your thumb!'" Harry said and turned to leave, knowing even without the laughter that started up that Draco had just started to nurse on his thumb like a pouty toddler. the thumb sucking command would only last for 5 minutes but it was enough to get even more laughter directed Draco's way and a look of disdain from Snape. by the time he was able to free his thumb for his needy mouth Draco would have a extra nick name to go with Potty pants Malfoy: Sucky baby Draco.

with what happened in the dining room proving to Draco for sure that Harry had SOME form of a hold over him, he had planned to go over all the books and scrolls available in the common room to try and figure it out. He was willing to pull a all nighter if that's what it took. However the other slytherin's had other plans. "oi, isn't it past little thumb suckers bed time? it's going on 7:30 after all." Crab asked, blocking his path to the book shelf and smirking. "Bugger off, you know I can keep later hours." Draco said and and went to move around him. "you know.." Pansy said in her smug voice. "I heard that if widdle Draco her makes anther mess in his undies, it's back to nappies for the wholllle year~" Draco gulped and paled a little, noting how Goyle was coming up behind him now and back stepped away for his clearly ex thugs and friends. "I..I mean..G-guys c-come on.." Draco whimpered, realizing just how out classed he was in a physical fight have like a doofus having forgot his wand in his room. "So it IS true!" Pansy said and let out a shrill laugh. "I think you should just get it over with BABY Draco. Snape's coming back any time now and can see you in all your smelly glory again." Crab chuckled. "I..Uh..I don't even have to.." Draco mewed and held up his hands. "oh, you need help disgracing yourself? All you had to do was ask." Goyle said and unleashed a powerful gut punch that sent spit flying out of Draco's mouth and sank him down to his knees holding his gut, looking up at a sneering Goyle who added. "what are friends for?" the fear had been working his bladder like crazy and Draco had had maybe one too many drinks of milk at dinner because the force of the blow had his poor bladder unleash and for the second in for the second night in a row, he started to flood his pants. "Hahahaha the baby is wetting himself!" Pansy laughed then turned to see Snape standing there. "Professor! you're just in time! Draco wet himself! are you gonna put him in nappies now?" Draco was sniffling and tears welling up in his eyes as he turned to look at his uncle, who strolled over with a look of anger on his face and taking out his wand. "U-Uncle Snape Please I-" Draco started, but then Goyle, Pansy and Crab suddenly turned upside down and were floating in the air, "How utterly stupid do you three believe me to be to think that you could fool me like that?" Snape asked in a quiet voice full of rage. "even if I hadn't of been standing there and seen the last little bit of that, you really think I wouldn't of found the bruise?" he added and started to move his wand up and down shaking the three bullies and making them knock together before dropping them in a heap on the ground. "W-We're sorry!" Yelped Goyle, who was the first to scrabble to his feet. "Won't happen again!" Crab added getting up. "Totally hands off!" Pansy finished and got to her feet. "Oh no, you'll be hands on. If ANYONE else threatens Draco with physical violence, or worse..carries it out, it'll be YOU three I blame and come after. so it's in your best interest to make he stays relatively safe. That said, a little verbal humiliation will do him good, but Hand.Off. Do I make myself clear or do you need anther demonstration?" the three got the point and scrambled off and as Snape went to turn to Draco he got the soaked and smelly boy glomping his waist and whimpering out thanks, getting snot on him. "thank you thank you thank you!" '...I'm getting soft in my old age.' Snape thought dryly and ruffled the boys hair and then lead the way to the bathrooms to get him cleaned up.

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