#namely that for his first few years at hogwarts molly cuts his hair short and he ALWAYS tries to grow it back out even though she cuts it

[bluerosesburnblue]

All Answered: 25 Emoji Asks

Tagged by @callmederok so I’m assuming this was about HPHM!

A bit of a long one (at least if you answered things the way that I did), so don’t feel like you have to do it, but I’m putting the usual tag list of @oveliagirlhaditright, @wilhelminafujita, @missnight0wl, and @batgirl-87 here.

🌟 When your OC loses all hope, who do they turn to first? What helps make them feel better? What calms them down and reassures them? Why?

The first one implies that Seren has a functioning support system, which at the current time she doesn’t. It used to be Jacob, and it will probably be Jacob again when they get things sorted out. When they were kids, he was all she had. Once they’re adults and able to stand on an equal level, though, I think it’ll be a lot better for her.

The whole problem is that once Seren gets upset, there’s very little that can get her out of it besides time. Her instinct is to withdraw somewhere private to just ruminate on everything. She used to cuddle plush toys to feel better, though I think those would get gradually replaced with the creatures that she adopts over time (it’s hard to stay sad with a crup pup licking your face!). But I think the main draw of finding solace in creatures is the fact that they make her feel “needed,” which for someone who constantly doubts their own worth is very reassuring

☀️ What makes your OC genuinely happy? A person, an item, their hobby? Where is the place they’re happiest, or most at home? What is the happiest they’ve ever been?

Again, taking care of creatures is something that genuinely makes her happy with no strings attached. Creatures don’t generally judge you and are incapable of comparing you to your brother, after all. Once she becomes an Animagus, I think turning into a raven and flying about wherever she wants would be something that makes her very happy due to the privacy of flying about unnoticed, the freedom of the movement, and the sense power that comes from mastering the skill. Also, being in animal form makes emotions simpler to process, so there’s very little that could make her unhappy for a prolonged amount of time in that form!

Relatedly, the happiest she’s ever been (at the current point in HPHM) would be her first Animagus transformation. The elation of knowing that you managed to get a very difficult bit of magic done right, pretty much by word-of-mouth on the particulars, and that the new skill would be unimaginably helpful combined with just the adrenaline of the transformation itself and relief of not having to deal with all of the precise timing stuff made it her happiest moment in recent memory

She’s happiest in private areas. Since she’s dorming and her home isn’t really a safe place for her, that ends up being the forest or the school rooftops that she can access post-Animagus

🌙 If your OC could have one wish come true what would it be and why? Would there be consequences to this wish or would they regret it once they get what they want? What would they give in return for this wish to come true?

Ooooof. Uh... that’s really hard because Seren is a Hufflepuff through and through. She wouldn’t be satisfied in the outcome of the wish unless she had to work for it. I suppose she’d probably use it on someone else or just ask them what they wanted and wish for that

If she had to wish for something for herself, though, then maybe she’d just wish for more restful sleep because she doesn’t get nearly enough. No regrets, she probably wouldn’t go out of her way to get the wish. It’d just be a nice, practical bonus to help her mental health

❄️ What makes your OC sad, so sad that they can’t help but cry all day? How do they cheer themselves up? Does their sadness upset any of their loved ones too?

Really, a better question is what doesn’t make her sad? She’s a pretty easily depressed, melancholic person when you get down to it. It wouldn’t even be sadness that would make her cry all day, but frustration at how everything seems to go wrong with the Vaults or with her friends. Stress and existential dread are huge issues for her

Covered it above that she doesn’t really cheer herself up, she just waits it out. I’m sure that the fact that she’s so difficult to cheer up makes her friends, and especially Jacob, upset, too. I guess he’ll just have to turn into a bird and incessantly attempt to cuddle up to her while tickling her with his feathers, huh?

🔥 If your OC known for having temper tantrums? If not, what gets them really angry? What makes their blood BOIL? Is there anyway to calm them down or are they unstoppable? What are they like when they’re angry? Do they take it out on their loved ones?

I wouldn’t really say that she has temper tantrums, but she does lash out a lot when she’s angry. Basically, a pissed off Seren is very volatile. She doesn’t resort to physical violence unless whoever’s offending her refuses to take the hint and leave her alone, but she’s very likely to get shouty, verbally aggressive and rude, and maybe take her frustrations out on objects in the environment. And it’s very hard to calm her down (honestly it’s hard to calm her down when she feels any strong emotions, and emotions for her are all or nothing so...)

There’s a reason that one of my best friends described her as “intense”

Things that piss her off include but are not limited to: people being hypocrites, Albus Dumbledore, unnecessary cruelty to people, unnecessary cruelty to animals or creatures, Merula Snyde, elitism of any kind (blood, species, living situation, etc.), potatoes, the implication that she likes potatoes, Albus Dumbledore and Merula Snyde, withholding of pertinent information for someone’s “safety,” being lied to, and being compared to Jacob

❤️ What would your OC’s ideal lover be like? Appearance, personality, voice? Would their family approve or would it be civil war?

Hold on, I have, like, a tiered list of Seren ships to reference here

So first of all, I don’t think she cares about appearance. Her self-confidence is low enough that the idea of anyone finding her attractive would probably far outweigh whether she finds them attractive. Though a little bit of messiness in their appearance and a bright smile certainly helps

I think the biggest thing for her would be whether they like creatures and animals. If the answer is no, then she won’t ever feel anything towards someone. It’s hard to like someone who doesn’t care for your passions. The other big things that I tend to take into account for her is the partner’s ability to handle her strong emotions. They usually always fall into two categories: cheerful and determined in a way that keeps her from falling too deep into her melancholy while also being laid back enough to counteract her anger, or quiet, calm people who sort of “absorb” her more passionate parts so that it evens out between the two of them. And being snarky doesn’t hurt

(For anyone curious, the ship list is:

Tier 1: Seren/Charlie and Seren/Talbott

Tier 2: Seren/Chiara, Seren/Orsino, Seren/Kirley, and Seren/Aurélie

Considered but Eliminated Because I Made Them Third Cousins: Seren/Barnaby

God Tier: Seren/Tuna Sandwich)

The only family who would care who she’s with would be Jacob and I think he’d approve of anyone on that list. Though fair warning: if you’re gonna romance Seren you have to be prepared for Jacob to third wheel the entire situation. You’re basically dating both of them he will not leave you alone

🕊️ Would your OC ever get married or are they already wed? If they’re married, describe what their wedding was like! If not, describe their ideal wedding (or do this if you feel like it anyway!)

I think she’d like to get married someday if she found the right person, but it’s not a particular priority. She doesn’t think about it much considering she uh... does not think she’s worth being in a relationship with

If she were to get married, I think her one specification would be that it be a small ceremony. She only has one family member who would show up and she’d be really upset if whoever she was marrying had more people there to support them than there were people there to support her (just rub it in that she’s been disowned yaaaaaaaay), so the guest list would be restricted to close family and friends only. I also think she’d prefer a wedding late in the evening and outdoors, maybe sometime in the spring or fall when the weather isn’t too hot or cold and there’s a nice breeze. Overall, it’d be a pretty casual affair

🍼 Does your OC have any children or want children? What names would they pick? Are they good with kids or a complete disaster?

Nope. Absolutely not. She has no desire for kids. She does not trust herself with kids. She is terrified that because she grew up in an emotionally abusive home that she’d be the same to her kids and she doesn’t want that. She also doesn’t want more responsibility and kids are A Lot, especially if you own a whole ton of pets already and you’re basically your brother’s entire sense of restraint. Not only does she not want kids, she hates her family line so much that she’s ecstatic that she might get to be the last Dwyn if she outlives Jacob

Ironically, though, she’s decent with kids. Though more so in the “cool aunt” way. She’s protective but also, like... an instigator who goads them into some stuff that I’m sure their parents wouldn’t approve of because Seren has weird standards of “normal and safe” (”Hey, kids! Wanna feed an Acromantula? I’ll teach you the safe way to do it!) Personally, I think Teddy Lupin considers her his aunt with how close she was to Tonks and he’s the closest to having a kid she’ll ever get

☕ Give us one (or more if you feel like it) of your OCs deep dark secrets! Why do they keep it hidden? Spill the tea!

The one thing she refuses to let anyone know about is the fact that her dad is a Squib. I know, that’s not really “her” secret to keep, but she’s a pretty honest person so she doesn’t have many. It’s not that she’s ashamed that her father’s a Squib, but just that she knows that there’s a lot of wizards who would find that something worth mocking and with everything happening with Jacob she just... doesn’t need the extra stress in her life

I mean, I guess her middle name being Aisling is a secret because she doesn’t want anyone to realize that her initials are SAD. Not really a “dark” secret, though. Her birthday’s another one, but that’s just because she doesn’t want people to go out of their way to get her gifts

And then there’s the whole “unregistered Animagus” thing that would surely get her sent to prison

(*cough* If she had a crush on someone that would be a secret, too. *cough* Wouldn’t want anyone to feel pressured to be in a relationship with her or anything. I don’t consider the First Date quest to be part of her story)

🍂 What are their opinions on the different seasons? Which one do they hate and which one do they love and why?

Hates summer because she can’t deal with hot weather, and because she’s forced to go home to parents that don’t want anything to do with her. Even when she’s an adult and doesn’t have to deal with her parents anymore she still hates it. Her birthday is in summer. She hates people celebrating it. Summer is just a sign that it’s gonna be her birthday again.

Winter is her favorite just because she likes snow (another point for being a raven Animagus: they really like rolling around in the snow and it’s adorable). The cold doesn’t bother her. And she loves Christmas.

She likes fall and spring because of the breezes, but that’s about it. She has no strong feelings for either one

🦋 If your OC could change everything (or just something) about their life would they? What would they change? What do they think would happen if they did? What would their loved ones think?

Everything? Maybe not. But not having emotionally abusive/neglectful parents would be nice. I really think that’s the one thing she’d change if she could, but there’s no good way to go about that that doesn’t screw up some aspect of her life. If her dad isn’t a Squib her never gets the job that he meets her mom at. If her mom isn’t a Muggleborn, then she doesn’t end up at the Cafe her dad worked at after leaving home. If she isn’t born a witch then she never goes to Hogwarts and meets any of her friends, and probably wouldn’t be as close to Jacob. So much of her life has been tied to it that there’s no way to change it without starting a horrible avalanche of consequences

💐 Does your OC like flowers? What are their favourites? Do they keep a garden of some sort? What flowers would they use in a flower crown? (and if you like, research the meanings behind those flowers!)

Yeah, she likes flowers a lot! Herbology’s actually her chill out class because she just likes being around them. At Hogwarts, she likes taking care of the Common Room plants (yes, I know Jane, they’re enchanted to be watered but I like to be sure) and will be keeping houseplants as an adult. Although, they’re mostly medicinal herbs and potions ingredients

She’s a big fan of water lilies and water poppies (gee, I wonder why), but she also has a fondness for odd-looking blooms like Bleeding Hearts. And the thing about flower crowns is that they’d be personalized for every person she makes one for. Actually, that would probably be a Christmas gift one year. Personalized flower crowns for everyone (probably sneak a blue water lily in each of them as a shorthand for “hey, this is from Seren!”)

🌼 Write a short drabble from your OCs POV meeting their LI (or if they don’t have a love interest, their best friend. If you don’t want to do a drabble, describe their first meeting instead!)

(The meetings for pretty much everyone are shown in-game... except for Charlie so let’s do it! Works for friendship because Seren’s slow to fall in love. Ain’t no love at first sight for her)

Her footsteps were just barely audible as she hurried down the spacious hallways of Hogwarts castle, until they were suddenly drowned out by a scream in the distance followed by a firm shout of “Riddikulus!” She didn’t stop until she was outside of the castle doors. The small Third Year leaned back against the cool stone of the castle’s exterior, closed her eyes, and breathed in the cool, late autumn air.

Ever since the boggarts had started appearing as part of the latest curse, Seren Dwyn had been making herself scarce. Part of it was due to the fact that her fellow students were quick to blame her for their appearance. Part of it was due to the fact that the boggarts always took the form of him, and she just couldn’t face him. Not yet. Not until she was certain that he was real, and that he was safe. (Besides, if any of the students who made fun of her found out that her boggart took the form of her brother, then they’d never let her live it down.)

She opened her eyes again and pushed off of the wall, kicking her feet against the ground and running her hand through the hair that fell over her shoulder. The stress was starting to get to her and she knew it. Walking around in constant fear that a boggart might show up only made them much more likely to show up, and she was far too smart to let that happen, or so she told herself. No, she just needed a way to take her mind off of them. Then she could return to the castle without the shapeshifting monsters impeding her search for the next Cursed Vault.

“...alright. Alright,” she whispered to herself in an attempt to bolster her confidence. She knew that she wasn’t technically allowed out this late, but there was only one place she was aware of to escape the boggarts and relax at the same time. And so the little Hufflepuff set off towards Hagrid’s Hut.

The long walk down had done wonders to lighten her mood, and she practically skipped up the steps to knock on the door to her favorite half-giant’s abode. She swung her fist up to pound the thick, wooden door loud enough for Hagrid to hear when she froze in her tracks. There was laughter. One of the voices was Hagrid, of course, who was so loud that he nearly drowned out the second voice. But she caught it.

Oh, stop being such a coward! she chided to herself, letting out a shaky breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Strangers always made her nervous, irrational as she knew that was. Just knock!

Her fist had barely touched the door when loud howling erupted from inside of the building. Taking that as her cue, Seren opened the door, gripped the edge of the doorway to avoid being knocked over, and allowed her favorite pup to leap up at her and start licking her face. He’d gotten so big! And, for the first time since the boggarts appeared, the girl started laughing. Genuinely, wholeheartedly laughing. And when her laughter started dying down, she noticed that it hadn’t just been her. The unfamiliar voice had joined in as well.

She looked up and her eyes finally met those of Hagrid’s guest: a boy of roughly the same age as her with a very familiar shade of red hair that he’d unsuccessfully attempted to tie back into a ponytail despite the fact that it was far too short. He was sitting on the floor, his back leaning up against the wooden crates that had been left in the corner and the pile of blankets next to him indicated that Fang had been laying down by his side. The freckles on his face highlighted his huge grin, an expression that extended up to his deep brown eyes. He was, by far, the cheeriest person she had seen in months.

He waved at her, and she could’ve sworn that she’d seen that exact same thing before. “Hello!”

“H-hi?” She waved back, and then quickly put her hand down. You’re making it awkward, ya eejit!

“You’re Seren, yeah? It’s nice to finally meet you in person! Not to be rude or anything, but Bill’s stories about you just haven’t been cutting it.”

“Oh!” That was it! She’d never talked to this boy before, but she had seen him around the castle. There were several times where it had seemed like he’d waved at her in the hallway and she’d just looked away and continued walking, assuming that he must have just been waving at someone else. But the red hair, the fact that he knew Bill... “You- you’re Charlie Weasley!”

Well, damn. Now she just felt rude in hindsight.

He didn’t seem to mind, though. If he’d even thought of those incidents at all, he certainly didn’t let it show. “Yeah! I was wondering if we’d ever run into each other. Hagrid said that you visit a lot.” He chuckled a bit. “I just thought it strange that we hadn’t once been here at the same time!”

“Charlie an’ I were jus’ talking abou’ tha’ purple Chinese Fireball tha’ they found las’ week! Ya hear abou’ tha’ one?” Hagrid asked.

Seren finally slid into the hut fully, closing the door behind her. “No. Been a bit busy,” she muttered, striding across the room and plopping herself down right next to Charlie, knowing full well that Fang would follow her to his little nest. Normally she would be nervous sitting this close to someone else, but something about Charlie just felt... safe. She glanced over at the boy and then quickly glanced away when he met her gaze. Maybe not that safe, yet. But she felt that she’d get there. “Tell me about it?”

Visiting Hagrid’s Hut that night had been a wonderful idea, she thought. And every time Charlie waved at her in the hallway after that, it took her mind off of the curses and the fear pervading the school. She had one more person around who was happy to see her, and that made all the difference.

🥀 Has your OC ever been hurt by someone they love? Ever been betrayed? Abused? Attacked? Give me the angst! (if you’d like, write a short drabble about it!)

Well, let’s see. Her mother resents the fact that she has magic and neglected her. Her father’s afraid of her because she has magic and he doesn’t and his mother used magic to abuse him. Her grandmother didn’t think she was good enough to be her heir and ignored her. Her brother disappeared on her... yeah, I’d say she’s been hurt by people she loves. Loved.

🏞️ If your OC could travel to anywhere in their world where would they go? Why? If they could live there would they?

Deep in the middle of the forest where no one can find her. Actually, despite the fact that she’s not very close to her mother, I think she’d still like to visit her mother’s homeland of the Faroe Islands. It certainly helps that they aren’t too densely populated. I think she’d mostly just want to visit because she thinks she might be able to figure out more about herself if she can see where her roots are and understand them better

I can’t see her moving there, though. It would remind her far too much of her mother and she kiiiiiiiinda wants to break away from that and just move on. That’s kinda the whole point. You can’t move on from something if you don’t really know what you’re moving on from

🏡 Describe your OCs ideal house! Give us a tour around! What’s their garden like? Their bedroom? Kitchen? Where is it and how many people live there?

So I’m just gonna describe her future shared apartment with Jacob because that’s pretty close to ideal

It’s not too big. Only a few rooms, but they each have a purpose. There’s the main sitting room and the kitchen right behind it. Down the hall is two bedrooms, a bathroom, and the “laboratory,” which is basically just a makeshift potions room because like hell are we paying for pre-made things when we can just prepare the raw materials and brew them ourselves (also experiment with potentially illegal brews just shhhhhh). Most rooms have some manner of houseplant in them. There’s a miniature Wiggentree near the front door for good luck that also houses Seren’s Bowtruckle, Durward, who protects the apartment from invaders

The whole place is filled with houseplants and small areas for Seren’s myriad creatures to settle into. Otherwise, the decor is pretty scarce, though Jacob has tons of framed pictures that he’s taken around. Muggle tech is in some spots where it would be easy to hide if they need to. Seren’s room in particular has a lot of fairy lights hanging around in it, and there’s books of every kind scattered about

There’s an entire shelf in that kitchen just dedicated to alcohol. Too much alcohol. Kids, please, I’m concerned about the way that you’re handling your mental health levels of alcohol (alcohol doesn’t do much for them. That’s what the Gillywater in the back is for.)

🔪 Has your OC ever killed someone? Ever had to defend themselves against violence? How did this make them feel? Or, alternatively, has your OC ever attacked someone? Seen someone die?

Not... yet. She has not killed anyone... yet. But she’s getting really close to trying. She’s never seen anyone die, either, but I can guarantee you that if that doesn’t change during the events of HPHM, then it will soon afterwards

As for violence and/or defending herself, well... *gestures in the direction of the entirety of HPHM* I dunno, you tell me. Though I will say that during the part where Rakepick breaks MC’s wand, I’ve always thought of it more as Seren waiting until after class to confront her and then attacking first, eventually getting her ass handed to her and her wand broken while she’s down. And I think she’d be more frustrated at herself than anything else because how could you be such an idiot of course you lost. You’re the worst. You don’t deserve to have these wounds healed just live with it. You useless failure

💎 Does your OC collect anything? Is there a reason? When did they start and is it beginning to turn into a little bit of a hoarding issue? What do they do with their collection?

Trauma. Actually, not really? Unless you want to count her creatures as her collection, but I don’t because they’re not really objects. And if you need a reason for them, I’ve mentioned it a whole bunch up above. It basically starts with inheriting Jacob’s owl and snowballs from there, though most of them are going to be given away at some point because it’s hard to take care of a lot of pets when you’ve been freshly disowned and are still unemployed

📚 If your OC was given some kind of forbidden knowledge, what would they do with it? Would they tell anyone? Use it for evil or good? How would it change their outlook on life, if at all?

Depends on what the knowledge even is. In general, she’s not big on keeping things from others for their own safety, so more than likely she’ll tell someone. But she’s also not an idiot and if it’s something like seriously, seriously so bad that it would be disastrous if even a hint of it may get out, then she may keep it between just herself and Jacob. Kinda hard to keep secrets from your mind-reading brother

There’s a very real possibility that she just will not care and continue on. Since she’s a detective it may influence the way she solves cases but... She wouldn’t use it for evil, that’s for sure. But she also may not use it for good because we never specified what the knowledge was and if it would be relevant to anything

🌗 Early mornings or late nights? What do they spend their time doing during these hours?

Late nights. The ones she doesn’t spend trying desperately to sleep and just not succeeding, she usually spends researching things that may be useful for the Vault search/detective work. Maybe a bit of experimenting or gift crafting if there’s a birthday or holiday coming up. She’s not an insomniac like her brother is, but she does share his tendency to just... not. Sleep. Sometimes. Though she’s far more likely to medicate herself to sleep

👑 If your OC was made royal (or is royal) how would they use their power? Are they a good leader or bad? Do their subjects like them or is it ‘off with their head’? Do they enjoy being royal?

If Seren was ever made royalty, then she would abdicate almost immediately. Use her position to establish a democracy and then leave. Like, that’s her whole thing. She’s a very competent leader. Very kind, but stern. Very good at shutting her emotions down and delegating. But she HATES being in charge. She prefers working alone or with 1-2 partners where everyone’s equal. So if she was ever made a royal, she’d use her power to plan for her absence, and then leave

💕 How is your OC like with physical affection? What are their boundaries? Do they enjoy being touched or is that a no-go? Is there any reason behind this?

In general, Seren is a “no touch” person. She doesn’t give affection to most people, she stiffens up when she receives it. And it’s because she’s not used to it and is constantly worried that she’s going to mess it up or intrude on others’ boundaries

She’s really only comfortable receiving physical affection from people that she’s very close to. Her brother, friends close enough to be considered siblings, potential love interests, and any possible future in-laws (though she’s more likely to reject them than others). I think the only person she’s totally comfortable giving physical affection to is Jacob. With him she can be pretty rough. But everyone else she’s much more shy about it with. She may get more bold if she’s been with a romantic partner for a long time, but in general you’d be lucky to get a hug from her

☁️ What’s something your OC wishes they could forget? Why is this? Or, what is something that your OC has forgotten? (or do both!)

Mmm. That’s hard, because Hufflepuffs are honest people and that includes being (or trying to be) honest with herself. So forgetting something would be going against that to her. I suppose if she had to pick something, she’d forget about MERULA SNYDE. Once she’s out of Hogwarts just ERASE HER FROM MEMORY SHE’S NOT WORTH YOUR TIME. Merula is just so insignificant to her and I want to see the look on “The Greatest Witch at Hogwarts’” face when, years later, the girl that she obsessively made fun of in school just looks over and goes “Who are you?”

I don’t think there’s anything specific that she’s forgotten about other than the general stuff, like some instances of kids making fun of her in Muggle school. You know, the normal stuff that just fades over time

👀 Describe your OC through the eyes of another person! (bonus + specify who)

From Jacob’s perspective:

She’s everything that he could’ve wanted in a friend. The perfect straight man to his funny guy, whose look of disinterest just makes all of his jokes sell harder. She’s smart enough to keep up with him, quick-witted enough to challenge him. But she needs to be protected. Protect her. That’s his little sister and he can’t fail her again. He loves the way her eyes light up when she starts rambling about creatures, how she takes every little adventure he comes up with and escalates it into a full-blown epic

When he sees her again it’s like that person’s not even there. Someone else is. Her eyes that were the color of the deep ocean look murky. Lifeless. The bags under her eyes rival his own. Her hair’s short now, and a mess, but he can’t help thinking how much it suits her. Makes her look like her own person and not like she’s trying too hard to be their mother. She always tried too hard to be their mother. She almost reminds him of himself, or she would if she hadn’t put so much of her own spin on everything. When she turns to him he’s worried about what she’s going to say.

“Jay, ya fecking dope. You stupid...” She sighs, tears forming at the edges of her eyes. “I missed you so much.”

Ah, there she is. That’s the Seren he remembers. So it wasn’t that she’d changed. Not really. She just stopped hiding who she was from everyone else.

❓ A random fact or short drabble! Or make up your own question to ask the OC!

Students shuffled out of the way as they saw her approach. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days (and she hadn’t) or like she was about to get into a gang fight. Her hair was even messier than normal, the bags under her eyes so deep that they could hold all of her schoolbooks and then some.

She’d stopped caring about the uniform a while ago. Her yellow tie was haphazardly thrown around her neck without even an attempt at tying it and her hands were stuffed into the pockets of the navy hoodie that she now wore at all times as she strode down the hallways. The scowl on her face was probably what kept her fellow students away, but that hardly bothered her. Better they get out of the “cursed student’s” way than risk being petrified. As though she had any control over that. As though she weren’t the one doing everything to stop those curses.

Five years. Five years of that nonsense and she was done with it. A sixth year now? Noooooo thank you. But a sixth year was what she was getting. Nothing much she could do about that except put a stop to it as fast as possible.

Find Sickleworth. Sickleworth leads you to Rakepick. When you find her, make her regret buying you a new wand. Find Sickleworth. Find Sickleworth.

Her mind was racing through all of the steps that she’d need to take and all of the possible ways that a fight with her ex-mentor could go down when something jolted her out of the mental rut she’d ended up in. A yelp, or perhaps more of a whimper. As she finally rounded the corner down to the Hospital Wing where she’d hopefully find her target, she spotted the source of the disturbance.

A tiny, tiny Crup puppy was shuffling about near the door to the Hospital Wing, doing its very best to avoid being stepped on by the throngs of students that payed it no heed. It let out a whimper again, the noise drowned out by the chatter of students, as it backed up against the wall. It seemed as if no one noticed it at all. No one except the girl in blue, anyway. She didn’t even hesitate to walk on over to the little pup and squat down in front of the trembling little thing.

“Hey, there, buddy,” she murmured, stroking the little creatures head as gently as she could. “What are you doing out here all alone?”

The tiny creature didn’t make a sound in reply. It only turned to lick her outstretched hand. She was glad that she was facing the wall at the time, because she suddenly found herself choking back tears.

“Did everyone leave you behind, too? Find some- find someone better to be around?” If anyone who knew her had heard her in that moment, they would’ve been shocked. No one had heard that kind of tenderness in her voice in months. Months that had felt like years to the quiet, somber girl.

She placed her hands around the pup as gently as she could before scooping him up into her arms and standing upright so that she wasn’t in the way of the Hospital Wing.

“I know what it’s like,” she whispered into the soft fur on the puppy’s head. “Everyone else may leave. But I won’t. That wouldn’t be fair to-”

Bang!

The tender moment was broken as an older gentleman came careening into the area, his artificial leg slamming hard into the stone wall that he must not have seen due to the decreased depth perception from his missing eye. If the students had been shuffling out of the girl’s way, then they were sprinting out of the man’s as he bellowed at the top of his lungs, “SPUD!? HAS ANYONE SEEN A CRUP- oh, Miss Dwyn!”

“Afternoon, Professor Kettleburn,” the girl said as she nodded towards the man, completely unfazed. Actually, she was much more impressed that nothing had been broken. That was a rarity with the good professor. “I ah... I assume this one’s yours?”

“Why, yes!” he replied, marching right on up to the young student. “One of our Crups just recently had a litter, you see. I was marching the little devils back to their room after a nice, long walk when I noticed that the smallest of the bunch had gone missing! Such a quiet little one, that Spud. Easy to overlook. But I see you found him! Of course you did! I should have expected one of my best students to come to a creature’s aid!”

“Yeaaaaaaaaah.” She shifted awkwardly on her feet, adjusting the puppy so that he was in a better position.

I should have expected as much. Why else would a Crup be here?

She glanced away from the man, before sighing and muttering under her breath, “So I... assume you want him back?” The magical dog licked her hand yet again, and she forced her eyes shut as she prepared to give him back.

Don’t cry in front of your professor. Don’t cry in front of your professor. Don’t cry in front of your professor. Don’t cry in front of your professor. DON’T-

“Miss Dwyn?”

Her eyes shot open as she finally met the gaze of the kindly professor. His expression was as soft as hers had been just minutes ago. Or at least, it seemed so. Sometimes it was hard to tell with the bandages covering his face.

“I’d feel terrible separating a creature from someone he’s bonded with. Especially if that person is one of my favorite students! You should keep him. He gets overlooked easily, but you... I’m certain that you would take good care of him.”

While the hallway was far from silent, it felt as though it was as the girl in blue processed her professor’s words.

“But- I- Wh... Are you sure?” she gasped out, hugging the pup closer to her body. “The... there’s no way that they’d allow me to keep him. A-a-and even if they did, I’m so busy that I couldn’t...”

“Sure you could!” The professor waved his artificial hand in a dismissive manner. “You’ve always gone out of your way to help with any and all creature related matters. I’m sure that with a good word from yours truly that Professor Dumbledore would let you keep him! You’ve more than proven that you could handle it.”

A little yip came from the girl’s arms in seeming affirmation, twin tails wagging. A few tears escaped the girl’s eyes.

“...thank you.”

“Think nothing of it, Miss Dwyn! If you wait here, I’ll go and fetch his things so that you can set up a nice little spot for him in your dormitory.”

And the man marched off, in the slightly clumsy but nonetheless upbeat manner that he always did. Still, the girl could have sworn she caught him say under his breath “No one deserves to be alone, after all.”

She leaned back against the wall, scratching her new pup’s chin and, when she thought that no one was looking, kissed his tiny head. Just being around the little guy made her feel more relaxed than... well, than she could ever remember feeling. She looked off down the way that the professor had left. She supposed that she would have to stick around for a while. Sliding down the wall into a sitting position, she placed the magical dog down on the ground to let him roam freely and smirked to herself.

“Of all things, though, why’d you have to be named after potatoes?”

#harry potter series #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery #hphm #jacob's sibling #seren dwyn #'short drabbles' it says as i write full on mini fics in here #i'm glad that i finally got to show off a bit of her sensitive hearing though because iiiiiiiii forgot that i made that a thing! #i reference a headcanon that i have for charlie here #namely that for his first few years at hogwarts molly cuts his hair short and he ALWAYS tries to grow it back out even though she cuts it #over holidays. eventually she gives up midway through year 3 and that's when he finally starts growing the ponytail we see him with

[dumblydork]

Another Hinny headcanon! Bit of an AU because a few characters are alive *sniffs*

I was itching to write something but had zero ideas (and was also busy crying over the Marauders schoolwork) but here I am again so enjoy!

Also this is kind of meh but pls don't mind thanx

----

Molly's red hair shone from at the front of the rows of white chairs, where she sat with her husband's arm around her, shaking slightly with tears. Or atleast that was what was told to Harry when Ron walked into the Room of Requirement.

"Are you all set? Ginny's ready, she's looking lovely." Ron smiled at him. Harry nodded, his throat suddenly constricted, rendering him unable to speak. He stood by the closet where he had changed into a black tuxedo with a bowtie, which at the moment felt impossibly tight.

"Merlin, your hair just never sits, does it?" Hermione's voice echoed as she walked in quickly, staring at the top of Harry's head.

"I used so much Muggle hair liquid-"

"Gel," Hermione corrected Ron.

"Yes, gel. We'll have to make our peace with his unruly hair." He continued.

"Harry, are you alright? You don't look too good." Hermione approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm alright, just slightly anxious." He finally turned around to face his best friends. He forced a smile but he knew his best friends could tell.

"Oh Harry. There's no reason whatsoever to be so anxious. Last time I checked, Ginny wouldn't have proposed if she didn't want to marry you." Hermione smiled, but looked at Ron for support.

"Oh definitely, it's totally unlike Ginny to propose to someone she doesn't want to marry." He made a joke which worked, as Harry gave out a laugh.

"It's time." Two identical voices said. Fred and George popped their heads inside the room as Hermione let out a small squeak and rushed out.

"How is it being married?" Harry asked Ron for what was probably the thousandth time that day.

"For the last time Harry, it's amazing. You and Ginny love each other and that's all there is to it, really. Now come on, we have to be there before Ginny." Ron grinned as he put an arm around Harry and led him out of the room onto the grounds.

Harry and Ginny had settled on Hogwarts for their wedding venue as it was the one place where they shared a lot of memories; their first kiss was in the Gryffindor common room, for instance. Not to mention all those quiet moments they spent under trees in the grounds.

The place looked beautiful- the altar was set right next to the lake, decorated in white and pink flowers. Ginny had always wanted a summer wedding right at Hogwarts. It was almost impossible to believe the war was over 4 years ago, and Hogwarts was back to normal. There was only one person who could officiate the ceremony, and he was currently standing in the middle of the altar, broadly smiling at Harry who walked towards him, Ron to his back.

"You look a bit queasy, Harry." Remus whispered with a grin.

"I'm just nervous," Harry attempted a smile.

"You'll be okay- there's really not a lot to marriage." Remus added helpfully, as Harry looked at Tonks and Ted, who was currently sat in his mother's lap, waving his chubby hands at his godfather.

Harry managed a wave back, feeling already better looking at his godson's hair which had turned a milder blue for today. Tonks smiled reassuringly at Harry as well, her hair red for today.

He looked to the other side of the seating to see Molly Weasley still shedding tears but smiled happily when her eyes met Harry's. The Weasley siblings and their wives all sat behind them, except Ron who was Harry's best man.

McGonagall sat next to the Weasley parents, wearing velvet robes, a small smile continuously on her face. She was currently chatting merrily to Hagrid who was to the side of the main seating rows, a chair for him separately.

The rest of the chairs were occupied by his close friends and family, Dudley and his wife also on one of the closer front rows. Dudley waved a small hand, no doubt intimidated by all the wizards and witches around him but trying his best not to show him. Seamus was trying his best to talk to Dudley, being the closest Muggle born.

He looked at one of the chairs in the front row next to Tonks, which was left empty with a black dog plushie. Harry could feel tears line his eyes as he thought of Sirius- how happy he would have been to see his godson get married. The two chairs next to Sirius' didn't help his tears either- they were also lefy empty for his parents- a similar stag plushie next to Padfoot's and a single Lily flower. It was Ginny's idea and Harry loved her all the more for it.

Harry's appraisal of the audience was cut short when the choir started the music and everybody straightened up. All eyes were on Harry, until a few heads turned around to see the bride. However, Hermione walked in first as the matron of honour, wearing a pastel pink dress which Harry noticed for the first time. He could slightly hear Ron gasp, no doubt reliving his own wedding. She came and stood to the side, smiling broadly at her husband and Harry.

And finally, there she was. Ginny was the image of gorgeous- she was wearing a traditional white gown, off her shoulders with a very long veil trailing behind her. Her fiery hair was tied up in a bun, he could tell. Harry could feel his heart thumping- it was a mixture of elation and anxiety, but more elation. Ginny was going to be his wife- they would be together for the rest of their lives.

Ginny was finally here, standing right in front of him. She was the opposite of the blushing bride, waving happily at baby Ted and her parents, both of whom were crying now. "Psst. Harry." Ginny whispered.

"Hi." She smiled, bringing Harry back to reality.

"Hello." He said breathlessly.

"You'll have the rest of your lives to talk, I'm starting the ceremony." Remus admonished playfully; both of them knew he was teasing them.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today," He started but Harry did end up blocking the rest of the ceremony out, too busy staring at Ginny who would look at him and then laugh at something Remus had added into the speech and then look back at him. It was all very dreamy.

"Do you, Harry James Potter, take Ginevra Weasley to be your faithfully wedded wife?" He could hear Remus say.

"I do," Harry managed.

"And do you, Ginevra Weasley, take Harry James Potter to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do." Ginny smiled and for the first time that day, Harry saw her blush.

"And finally, the moment I can SEE Harry has been waiting for, you may now kiss the bride." Remus laughed. But Harry couldn't care- this was the moment he had waited for ever since he had been dating Ginny.

He lifted the veil but before he could do anything, Ginny dragged his neck down and pressed her lips on his, leaving Harry stunned. He could hear cheers coming from the audience, most strongly from the twins.

"And now I declare you husband and wife!" Remus finished, as he hugged both of them together. "Have the best life ahead." He whispered before pulling away.

Harry and Ginny faced their audience, made up of the people they loved the most, but turned back to each other. They were each other's better halves, and now they were married, bound by magic (and law) to be together for the rest of their lives.

-sometime later-

"Throw the bouquet, Ginny!" Luna almost yelled and Harry could have sworn that was the first time he had ever heard Luna speak at a volume louder than a whisper.

"Okay, here it goes!" Ginny turned out and threw the bouquet of pink lilies behind her, her eyes shutting close.

"Aw no!" Collective groans came from the crowd, and she turned around to see who had caught the bouquet.

It turned out that baby Teddy was holding the bouquet which was also bigger than his face, while Tonks' hair colour changed furiously. The baby was laughing as if he he knew it was funny and it was infectious- the rest of the crowd burst out laughing literally a second later.

Ginny turned happily to Harry. "So Mrs. Potter, how do you feel?" Harry asked after pulling her slightly away from the noise.

"Perfect, Mr. Potter. I like the sound of my new name." Ginny smiled, placing her head on her husband's chest. Harry placed his chin on top of Ginny's head, standing quietly under the shade of the big tree where they had first sworn to be together.

Until a wolf whistle broke them apart, or rather two, identical, wolf whistles.

~~~

#harry potter #harry x ginny #ginny weasley #headcanon #harry potter headcanon #hinny #hinny headcanon #post war #head canon #wedding #hinny wedding #hogwarts

[writings-of-dumpy]

VooDoo Doll: George Weasley x Reader blurb

A/N: This is actual garbage. Like it’s just bad. I’m so sorry.

Summary: Based on VooDoo Doll by 5SOS. George doesn’t really like Y/N, but suddenly he has feelings he can’t explain... until he can.

Fred and George played pranks on everyone, almost no exceptions. They tried to stay away from those much younger than themselves, but sometimes a know-it-all Slytherin first year would get on their nerves, so slipping puking pastilles into the morning pumpkin juice of that specific student would be deemed appropriate by them. Hey, they were getting him out of class at least.

Most of their pranks were directed at their fellow classmates or their siblings and their friends, and there was one in particular George liked to prank. Not because he disliked her, she was just an easy target being only a year younger than them and Ginny's best friend. She usually took it well, but George could tell by her frustrated sighs after a raincloud had followed her all day or her robes were suddenly made of feathers that the pranks were getting a bit more annoying throughout the years. Fred and George decided to give Y/N a break in their last year at Hogwarts especially with Dumbridge spoiling their fun. During the DA meetings, George found himself not able to stop himself from looking at Y/N. She performed the spells so well. He felt a feeling swell in his very soul and he couldn’t fight the urge to do one last prank on her before their time was up at Hogwarts.

“It’s brilliant,” Fred said with a grin when George proposed the idea. “Who’s the target?”

“The usual. She’s just a good sport about it,” George said and smiled devilishly. Fred raised a brow and shook his head and they made arrangements.

The following day, the Weasleys staked out the hallway Y/N always walks down to charms class. Her head was in a book and she didn’t even notice the trip wire that they had set up. Her ankles were caught in the wire and she nearly fell over as the wire tugged. George watched her look around on the floor, but then their fake dementor swooped in from the roof. The sound effect triggered and Y/N jumped, then screamed at the appearance of the shadowy figure. It swooped down and then the twins revealed themselves to Y/N as the perpetrators behind the childish prank. Y/N looked terrified, then annoyed when she saw them sniggering in the end of the hallway.

“Very funny,” she said sarcastically and walked away quickly. Fred and George high-fived and made their way to their class. George noticed that he hadn't seen Y/N as much throughout the day today as he usually does and bu the time lunch rolled around, he was concerned. He looked to where Ginny and Y/N usually sat and chatted during the lunch hour and saw that both of them were gone.

“Hey, where's our sister?” Fred asked Ron as if he were thinking the same as George. Ron shrugged.

“Maybe she's comforting Y/N. I heard that Y/N was really upset and crying in the girl's bathroom,” Hermione informed them without looking up from her papers. A wash of guilt fell over George and he looked at Fred, who appeared to also be feeling slightly guilty. After lunch, George went to find his sister, but had no luck and wished that he could apologize to Y/N.

When Fred and George returned to the Burrow early, Molly wasn't surprised, but was slightly disappointed that her prankster sons weren't going to graduate Hogwarts. Luckily their misbehavior was swept under the rug at the ministry and the pair were able to keep their wands and continue practicing magic.

“Would you two like to meet them at the train?” Molly offered on the morning the Hogwarts Express was to return students to their homes. Fred and George smiled and nodded having missed their two younger siblings.

“Oh, Harry and Y/N will be staying with us this summer, just to let you know,” Molly said as the train pulled into the station.

“What?” George said in surprise. Y/N was a name he hadn't heard in a few months, but she wasn't very far from his thoughts. He still felt bad about their last interaction and how it may have effected Y/N. He never plucked up the courage to talk to her about it, and she kept her distance after that.

“Hi mum!” Ron greeted Molly with a hug.

“Hello there boys,” Ginny greeted her brothers with a warm smile and hugs all around.

“Oh, it's so good to see you, Y/N dear! And Harry, welcome back, my boy,” Molly said with a  smile and hugged them.

George wanted to say something to Y/N, but their greeting was cut short as they were all ushered out of King's Cross and hurried back to Diagon Alley to use the Floo system. It wasn't until they were all back at the Burrow that George was able to have a moment to talk to Y/N.

“So how was the rest of the year?” he asked her. She raised a brow at him.

“It was horrible up until the very end when Umbridge finally just went missing,” Y/N said. “But... well, poor Harry.”

George nodded as he had heard about Harry's godfather and order member. “I'm sorry I left.”

“I'm not. Umbridge deserved it, and it looks like you two have been doing better than you were at school, so... it worked out,” Y/N said with a smile.

After a few weeks had passed and the summer assignments were complete, they had all taken to playing quidditch on the large property. Hermione and Y/N sat off to the side while the rest of the Weasleys plus Harry played. The match was well underway and Fred and George reprised their beater roles to help their sister and brother become better keepers and chasers. After the quaffle had been passed around a few times and a few bludgers had zipped around, George felt himself gazing in Y/N and Hermione's direction. His eyes lingered for a bit too long on the way the sun hit Y/N's hair and made her eyes shine when she smiled. Behind her, he saw a bludger heading straight towards her head.

“Watch out!” George said to them, which caused Y/N and Hermione to look around in confusion. Acting quickly, he zoomed his broom behind her and beat the ball into submission.

“Finite incantatem,” George said with a wave of his wand and the balls dropped to the ground with a loud thud.

“Well that's it for today I think,” Ron said as they all flew to the ground and dismounted.

“Are you alright?” George asked Y/N, who looked at him in shock.

“Um, yeah... Thank you,” she said and smiled politely at him.

George felt his cheeks get hot and he nodded.

“What's gotten into you, mate?” Fred asked once they retired to their rooms that night.

“What do you mean?” George responded.

“You just seem... distracted. Like you kept looking over at Y/N the whole match and last week you nearly dropped a stack of dishes when she walked by you. She slip you a love potion?” Fred teased.

“What? No,” George scoffed. He remembered that incident well, though. Y/N had just woken up and George was so distracted by how attractive she looked in an oversized shirt and shorts that he felt his whole body go numb and he nearly shattered the plates he was carrying to put away.

Well into the night, George found himself thinking about the light brushes that Y/N and he had shared throughout their time at Hogwarts and he could still feel how soft and warm her skin was in the places they had connected. He felt embarrassed as if she were watching him obsess over such a small gesture like a prank to get her attention even though she was in the other room. He kept imagining her in his mind, and he remembered several times now that he had done this exact routine at night. He couldn't help but think of nothing but her.

He rolled over and saw that Fred had fallen asleep. He didn't know what time it was, but the house was silent so he assumed late. His stomach made an ungodly sound that signaled for him to feed it and he happily complied. He glanced at the clock and was astonished to find it was nearly two in the morning. Had he really been so involved in his thoughts about Y/N that he hadn't noticed several hours passing? He opened the refrigerator and found a small sandwich up for grabs. As he closed the door, he saw a small figure outlined in the darkness and nearly screamed his soul out of his body.

He pointed his lit wand at the figure to find Y/N in her sleepwear standing next to the counter with the glasses cabinet open.

“Jesus fucking christ, don't scare me like that,” George exhaled.

“Sorry, I was really thirsty..” Y/N chuckled. George watched as she moved about the kitchen, his hunger forgotten for the moment. His eyes trailed along her body many times as he took in every bit of her he could.

“Can I help you?” she asked after taking a drink from the cup.

Without thinking and fatigue beginning to cloud his judgment, George responded, “Tell me where you're hiding your voodoo doll.”

“Pardon?” Y/N said in an almost offended tone.

“I can't sleep, there's pins in my head in my heart in my chest and I can't breathe around you. What have you done to me?” George asked as he walked closer to her. By the end of his sentence, Y/N's back was against the wall and George's eyes connected with hers through the dim light of his wand that rested on the counter.

“Is this another cruel prank?” Y/N asked.

George's heart clenched. Cruel prank? Did he really hurt her? He hadn't meant to, he wanted her to laugh with them like she used to. George shook his head.

“If you think for even one second that your face doesn't haunt my dreams and that you're the reason for my heart beating at all or that you're not the motivation for me to breathe... you're dead wrong,” George said with his heart in his throat. George's eyes searched hers as he leaned closer, but he found no resistance. He acted purely on instinct and kissed her mouth with a conviction that he could only muster through inhibition of his doubts and fears.

She kissed him back and for a moment, time stopped for George. It was as if the world had been completed when their lips collided and moved together. George felt Y/N pull away from him and he opened his eyes to find hers tearful.

“You're ruthless, George Weasley,” she said with a small sob. George's heart shattered as she walked away from him and up the stairs.

~*~

Y/N couldn't believe the audacity of that red-headed heartthrob. The last interaction they had was a terrifying dementor prank, then he abandons the school and now suddenly he's a proper gentleman asking how her day has gone and saving her from a trip to the emergency room during a quidditch practice and then kissing her in the kitchen? Y/N's heart was racing, but she couldn't wake Ginny up to tell her. Ginny could never find out about Y/N's massive crush on George in spite of her heart being broken. She felt bad for calling him ruthless, but there was no better way to describe such a horrible joke. He had to be joking, there's no way he could feel so strongly for Y/N, not after all the years of torment he put her through. Y/N curled up under the covers and only let a few tears of frustration escape. She longed for his lips on hers again, but wouldn't dare let that show.  Maybe she'd wake up and this entire night would be a dream.

That was not the case. Y/N woke up and remembered the feeling of George's lips against hers vividly. The sun shone through the window and Y/N could hear Ginny start to stir. Sighing to herself, Y/N got up from her bed and got dressed. Throughout the day, she and George would make eye contact briefly, and Y/N's heart ached to talk to him, but she couldn't find it in herself to play into his game. She was convinced he was playing a prank on her, not that he had feelings for her the way she did for him. By the end of the day, she could tell George's irritation growing.

“I need to talk to you,” he said after dinner in a low voice. Y/N was hesitant but didn't dare deny alone time with George.

They went to the back yard and sat down on the patio. Y/N had noticed Ginny's sly smirk and raised eyebrow at the two of them when Y/N had exited the room with George, but Y/N ignored the glances.

“What is it?” Y/N asked once the door had shut.

“I meant what I said. My feelings haven't changed once. You've become my entire world, I need you to know that,” George said.

Y/N looked into his eyes and found remorse and a warmth that she wanted to envelop herself in. She nodded in response and urged him to continue with raised brows.

“I want to be yours... if you'll have me,” he finished after a moment.

Y/N was taken off guard and her nerves seemed to get the better of her because she felt sick to her stomach and her mouth went dry. Her mind screamed with glee, and she was sure the smile she formed was involuntary as she nodded. George grinned and pulled her into a close embrace.

#george weasley x reader

[thewidowsghost]

The Unknown Muggleborn - Chapter 8

3rd Person POV

Later that night, (Y/n) crawls under her covers to go to sleep; Marvel lies her small head on (Y/n)'s chest.

"'Night, girl," (Y/n) murmurs, drowsily scratching behind the cat's ears.

. . .

A few hours later, Marvel lifts her head, nuzzling (Y/n)'s face to try to wake her up. She lets out a whimper, pawing (Y/n)'s face.

The girl was sweating and her neck was resting at an awkward angle. Her breath had quickened and her eyes were moving rapidly under her closed eyelids.

Marvel jumps off the bed and streaks into Hermione's room. Hermione had always been a light sleeper, so when the cat jumped onto her bed, she wakes.

Marvel meows, and Hermione's head tilts in concern.

"What's wrong, Marvel?" Hermione asks and the black-and-white feline paws at Hermione's hand and jumps off the bed, stopping at the door, then looking back at the brunette.

What a peculiar cat, Hermione thinks, throwing back the covers and following the cat across the hall to her sister's room.

Marvel streaks over and onto the bed, her green eyes wide as she tries to nudge her companion awake again.

Realization and fear dawn in Hermione's eyes and she walks across the room and switches on (Y/n)'s bedside slight before placing a hand on her sister's shoulder, shaking it roughly.

"Come on," Hermione murmurs. "You've got to wake up."

(Y/n)'s eyes flash open, and she sits up in her bed, her eyes closed, head leaning against the headboard, her hands trembling.

Hermione sits down on the edge of (Y/n)'s bed, and takes her sister's hands in her own.

(Y/n) looks up, her eyes wide with shock - and a bright silver.

Hermione looks at her sister and (Y/n) subconsciously moves over and Hermione slides under the covers, her back leaning against the other half of (Y/n)'s pillow.

(Y/n) leans against Hermione's shoulder; Hermione, used to these nightmares, remains silent.

After a few minutes, she reaches over and turns off the bedside light.

(Y/n) turns on her side, her head resting on the pillow, and Hermione does the same.

. . .

(Y/n) and Hermione don't talk about the nightmare the night before as the two go about the rest of the break leading up until Christmas.

After breakfast Christmas morning, (Y/n), Hermione, and their parents walk into the living room.

"You girls want to pass out gifts?" Mrs. Granger asks and (Y/n) and Hermione nod.

After passing out the gifts, (Y/n) settles back down at her place in front of the couch. (Y/n) pulls the wrapping paper off one from Fred, and sitting on top was a card. It said:

(Y/n), Somebody got this picture of your first Quidditch match, I thought you'd like it.

- Fred

Lifting up the card, (Y/n) smiles seeing a picture in a frame. It was a picture of Fred and George lifting her up onto their shoulders after her first Quidditch match.

(Y/n) sets the picture and card beside her before picking up a gift from Harry. She smiles when she sees a Advanced Charms book and a book on Magical Creatures.

(Y/n) looks over at Hermione as the brunette at her side opens her gift. (Y/n) had given her sister a copy of Hogwarts: A History.

"I have a copy already," Hermione says, turning to (Y/n).

"There's a charm on it," (Y/n) explains. "Whenever something important in Hogwarts' history, it get's copied down in here. Look," (Y/n) says, opening a page. It says, October 31, 1991 - Hermione Granger, (Y/n) (L/n), Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, defeated a mountain troll in a girls toilet.

Hermione stares down at the book and a smile slowly spreads across her face. "This is really cool! I love it! But that's not how that went," Hermione says.

"Ah, but it's better than what actually happened," (Y/n) argues. "That was not my best birthday."

(Y/n) grabs another gift, pulls the paper off, and finds a box of chocolate frogs from Harry, and she sets them aside, promising to have one later.

One of (Y/n)'s last gifts is a package wrapped in glossy blue paper with wolves printed on it.

(Y/n),

Happy Christmas! I'm very proud of what you have accomplished at Hogwarts in such a short amount of time.

-Love,

Uncle Remus

(Y/n) gazes down at the card, a small smile on her face. Then she sets the card at her side and looks at the contents of the box. Inside was a small stuffed wolf with a tag on it's ear that read - (Y/n)'s first stuffed animal, a gift from Uncle Remus. Under that was a new stack of photos that (Y/n) promises herself to look at later.

(Y/n) opens a package and finds a red sweater with a silver (First Initial) on it. Under the sweater was a large box of homemade fudge and a letter.

(Y/n), My sons Ron, Fred, and George have told me a lot about you. My husband, Arthur, and I wish to meet you soon. Happy Christmas! -Molly Weasley

Grinning, (Y/n) pulls the sweater over her head and the four finishing opening all their gifts, both (Y/n) and Hermione take all their things upstairs.

3rd Person POV - with Harry - A few hours earlier

On Christmas Eve, Harry goes to bed looking forward for the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all. When he wakes early in the morning, however, the first thing he sees is a small pile of packages at the foot of his bed.

"Merry Christmas," says Ron sleepily as Harry scrambles out of bed and pulls on his bathrobe.

"You, too," says Harry. "Will you look at this? I've got some presents!"

"What did you expect, turnips?" says Ron, turning to his own pile, which is a lot bigger than Harry's.

Harry picks up the top parcel. It is wrapped in thick brown paper and and scrawled across it was to Harry, from Hagrid. Inside is a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself; Harry blows it - it sounded a bit like an owl.

A second, very small parcel contains a note. We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Taped to the note is a fifty-pence piece.

"That's friendly," says Harry.

Ron seems fascinated by the fifty pence, "Weird!" he exclaims. "What a shape! This is money!"

"You can keep it," says Harry, laughing at how pleased Ron is. "Hagrid and my aunt and uncle - so who sent these?"

"I think I know who that one's from," says Ron, turning a bit pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. "My mom. I told her you didn't expect any presents and - oh, no," he groans, "she's made you a Weasley sweater."

Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge.

"Every year she makes us a sweater," says Ron, unwrapping his own, "and mine's always maroon."

"That's really nice of her," says Harry, trying the fudge, which was very tasty.

Harry's next present also contains candy - a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione which Harry thought was kind of funny because he had gotten (Y/n) the same thing.

Harry's next parcel was from (Y/n). Opening it, he sees a small box. Feeling curious, Harry opens the box to see a couple of photos. One was of a raven haired man with amber eyes, Harry's father, and a red haired women with emerald green eyes, his mother. The two are standing with a (M/H/C) haired women, (Y/n)'s mum; all three were smiling.

Harry looks at another picture of two kids, probably about a year old. One was a boy with raven hair and emerald eyes, the other was a girl with (H/C) and green eyes - Harry himself and (Y/n).

Then, Harry sees a piece of paper sitting in the box.

Hey Harry,

I found these pictures in the box my godfather left me and I made a few copies. I figured you'd want them.

-Love,

(Y/n)

Harry smiles and picks up the final present. He picks it up and feels it. It's very light, he thinks, and he unwraps it.

Something fluid and silvery gray goes slithering to the floor where it lies in gleaming folds and Ron gasps.

"What is it?"

Harry picks up the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It's strange to the touch, like water woven into material.

"It's an Invisibility Cloak," says Ron, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure it is - try it on."

Harry throws the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gives a yell.

"It is! Look down!"

Harry looks down at his feet, but they are gone. He dashes to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looks back at him, just his head suspended in midair, his body completely invisible. He pulls the cloak over his head and his reflection vanishes completely.

"There's a note!" says Ron suddenly. "A note fell out of it!"

Harry pulls off the cloak ans seizes the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before were the following words:

Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you.

Use it well

A very Merry Christmas to you

There is no signature; Harry stares at the note, while Ron is admiring the cloak.

"I'd give anything for one of these," Ron says. "Anything. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," says Harry. He fells very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father? he thinks.

Before he can say - or think - of anything else, but the dormitory door is flung open and Fred and George Weasley bounds in. Harry stuffs the cloak quickly out of sight. He doesn't fell like sharing it with anyone else yet.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Hey, look — Harry's got a Weasley sweater, too!"

Fred and George are wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it,the other a G.

"Harry's is better than ours, though," says Fred, holding up Harry's sweater. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family."

"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George demands. "Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm."

"I hate maroon," Ron moans halfheartedly as he pulls it over his head.

"You haven't got a letter on yours," George observes. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid — we know we're called Gred and Forge."

"What's all this noise?"

Percy Weasley sticks his head through the door, looking disapproving. He had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carries a lumpy sweater over his arm, which Fred seizes.

"P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours, even Harry got one."

"I — don't — want —" says Percy thickly, as the twins force the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew.

"And you're not sitting with the prefects today, either," demands George."Christmas is a time for family."

They frog-march Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his side by his sweater.

Harry had never in all his life had such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas;tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce —and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. These fantastic party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside. Harry pulls a wizard cracker with Fred and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet,and is chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.

Flaming Christmas puddings follow the turkey. Percy nearly breaks his teeth on a silver Sickle embedded in his slice. Harry watches Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he calls for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Harry's amazement, giggles and blushes, her top hat lopsided.

When Harry finally leaves the table, he is laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of non-explodable, luminous balloons, a Grow Your-Own-Warts kit, and his own new wizard chess set. The white mice had disappeared and Harry has a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs.Norris's Christmas dinner.

Harry and the Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they return to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, where Harry breaks in his new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ron. Harry suspects he wouldn't have lost so badly if Percy hadn't tried to help him so much.

After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone feels too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor Tower because they'd stolen his prefect badge.

It had been Harry's best Christmas day ever. Yet something had been nagging at the back of his mind all day. Not until he climbs into bed is he free to think about it: the Invisibility Cloak and whoever had sent it.

Harry leans over the side of his own bed and pulls the cloak out from under it. His father's ... this had been his father's. He lets the material flow over his hands, smoother than silk, light as air. Use it well, the note had said.He has to try it, now. He slips out of bed and wrapped the cloak around himself. Looking down at his legs, he sees only moonlight and shadows. It's a very funny feeling.Use it well.Suddenly, Harry feels wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts is open to him in this cloak. Excitement floods through him as he stands there in the dark and silence. He can go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never know.

Ron grunts in his sleep. Should Harry wake him? Something holds him back— his father's cloak — he felt that this time — the first time — he wants to use it alone. Harry creeps out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, and climbs through the portrait hole.

"Who's there?" squawks the Fat Lady. Harry says nothing. He walks quickly down the corridor.

Harry, his heart racing, and thought. And then it came to him. The Restricted Section in the library. He'd be able to read as long as he liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was. He sets off, drawing the Invisibility Cloak tight around him as he walked.The library is pitch-black and very eerie. Harry lights a lamp to see his way along the rows of books. The lamp looks as if it was floating along in midair,and even though Harry can feel his arm supporting it, the sight gives him the creeps.

The Restricted Section is right at the back of the library. Stepping carefully over the rope that separates these books from the rest of the library, he held up his lamp to read the titles. They didn't tell him much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled words in languages Harry couldn't understand. Some had no title at all. One book has a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood. The hairs on the back of Harry's neck prickled. Maybe he was imagining it, maybe not, but he thought a faint whispering was coming from the books, as though they knew someone was there who shouldn't be. Harry had to start somewhere. Setting the lamp down carefully on the floor, he looked along the bottom shelf for an interesting-looking book. A large black and silver volume caught his eye. He pulls it out with difficulty, because it was very heavy, and, balancing it on his knee, lets it fall open.

A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek splits the silence — the book is screaming! Harry snaps it shut, but the shriek goes on and on, one high, unbroken, earsplitting note. He stumbles backward and knocks over his lamp, which went out at once. Panicking, he heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside —stuffing the shrieking book back on the shelf, he runs for it. He passes Filch in the doorway; Filch's pale, wild eyes looked straight through him, and Harry slips under Filch's outstretched arm and streaks off up the corridor, the book's shrieks still ringing in his ears.

Harry comes to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. He has been so busy getting away from the library, he hadn't paid attention to where he was going.Perhaps because it's dark, he didn't recognize where he was at all. There is a suit of armor near the kitchens, he knew, but he must be five floors above there.

"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library — Restricted Section."

Harry feels the blood drain out of his face. Wherever he is, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice is getting nearer, and to his horror, it's Snape who replies, "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."

Harry stands rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape come around the corner ahead. They can't see him, of course, but it is a narrow corridor and if they come much nearer, they'd knock into him - the cloak didn't stop him from being solid.

Harry backs away as quickly as he can. A door stands ajar to his left. It's my only hope, Harry thinks. He squeezes through it, holding his breath, trying to to move it, and to his relief, he manages to get inside the room without their noticing anything. They walk straight past, and Harry leans against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away. They had been close, very close, It is a few seconds before he notices anything about the room he his hidden in.

It looks like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs are piled against the walls, and there is an upturned wastepaper basket — but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.

It is a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame,standing on two clawed feet. There is an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

His panic fading now that there is no sound of Filch and Snape, Harry moves nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at himself but see no reflection again; he steps in front of it.

He has to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. He whirls around, his heart pounding far more furiously than when the book had screamed - for he had not seen only himself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind him.

But the room is empty. Breathing very fast, he turns slowly back to the mirror.

There he is, reflected in it, white ans scared-looking, and there, reflected behind him, are at least ten others. Harry looks over his shoulder - but still, no one is there. Or are they invisible, too? Is his, in fact, in a room full of invisible people and this mirrors trick is that it reflects them, invisible or not?

Harry looks in the mirror again. A woman is standing right behind his reflection is smiling at him and waving. He reaches out a hand and feels the air behind him. If she is really there, he would touch her, their reflections are so close together, but he only feels air - she and the others exist only in the mirror.

She is a very pretty woman. Dark red hair and her eyes, emerald green eyes. Harry edges closer to the to the glass. Bright green - exactly the same shape as Harry's, but then he notices that she is crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wears glasses and his hair is very untidy. It sticks up at the back, just as Harry's does.

Harry is so close to the mirror that his nose is nearly touching that of his reflection.

"Mom?" he whispers. "Dad?"

They just look at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looks into the faces of the other people in the mirror, and sees other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man, who looks as though he as Harry's knobbly knees - he is looking at his entire family for the first time in his life.

The Potters smile and wave at Harry and he stares hungrily hack at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he is hopping to fall right through it and reach them. He has a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness.

How long he stands there, he doesn't know. The reflections do not fade and he looks and looks until a distant noise brings him back to his senses. He can't stay here, he has to find a way back to his bed. He tears his eyes away from his mother's face, whispers, "I'll come back," and hurries from the room.

Harry does for the next two nights and Dumbledore had found Harry the last night. Dumbledore had told Harry the purpose of the mirror, to show the deepest desire of their hearts.

Dumbledore had convinced Harry not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised again, and for the rest of the Christmas holidays the Invisibility Cloak stays folded at the bottom of his trunk. Harry wishes he could forget what he'd seen in the mirror as easily, but he can't He starts having nightmares. Over and over a again he dreams of his parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice crackles with laughter. What Harry didn't know, was that (Y/n) was having the same dreams. Repetition from the one on Christmas Eve night.

"You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad," says Ron, when Harry tells them about these dreams.

Word Count: 3759 words

#hermione granger x sister reader

[panda-noosh]

the missing part {George Weasley x Reader}

Words: 10.5k

Summary: The trio becomes a pair.

Genre: angst

Warnings: mentions of death - grief - this is also a platonic fic so if you’re looking for some good good romance, you might not wanna waste your time with this one. 

Notes: support my writing or ask me about commissions! - THIS IS A SAD ONE BOYOS 

----

You receive the news shortly after everything happens.

   The change to the wizarding world is a physical one. Wizards all over the globe can feel the difference, even though they weren't at the scene, even though news has yet to break of the details describing what really happened that evening in Hogwarts. People are cheering and screaming victory in the streets, because everyone just knows. Everyone is breathing normally again. Everyone is safe.

  It's excitement that claws at you first and foremost, because you're stuck in that head space where nothing feels wrong. Voldemort is dead – you know it, the world knows it, everyone is okay. You celebrate with a glass of wine, too absorbed in this massive victory to think of the sacrifices that must have happened to make it happen. For tonight, all you want is a chance to bask in a freedom you have not felt nor experienced in many, many years.

  But the euphoria can't last forever. One problem has been taken care of, and now there is room for more to trickle in.

  You receive the letter the next day. You wake up from a wine-induced sleep to the sound of the owls beak tapping against your window; you retrieve the letter with a hopeful mind and trembling fingers, because it has been so long since you've received a letter that isn't a warning of the Ministry getting closer to your home, or a newspaper reporting news you do not want to hear, news so false and manufactured it made you start buying The Quibbler just for a real taste of what was happening in the outside world.

    You open the letter at your kitchen table, and this is something you will always, always remember, a moment that will forever be locked in your brain due to the trauma – genuine trauma – it swept upon you. Over a glass of milk and a bowl of cereal, you read the words Fred is dead, scribbled in the handwriting of Molly Weasley.

  You read it over and over again, just to make sure your mind is not playing tricks on you – you would be less surprised if you suddenly found out your months of isolation had made you gone insane, because it seems most impossible that Fred Weasley is no longer alive, no longer with you, no longer laughing and smiling and brightening up a room with his twin brother at his side.

   Through your heartbreak, this thought leads you to the even more heartbreaking thought of the twin that is still doing all those things – George. How his world must have shifted, how he must be feeling. You remember sitting beside him back at Hogwarts, listening to him and Fred speak at the exact same time – back then it felt so weird, and you'd cringe and tell them to stop; now, however, you can barely stomach the idea of not hearing their synchronised sentences.

  You write back, asking Molly if there's anything you can do, sending your condolences without making it obvious you are completely and utterly crushed. She replies shortly, saying she wants you there for the funeral, George wants you there for the funeral, Fred would want you there for the funeral.

  And you don't want to go. Call it selfish,cowardly, but you don't want to. Standing beside his casket, surrounded by his family and friends, will make it real. When you're huddled in your home, away from it all, it's easy enough to pretend Fred is sat at The Burrow, celebrating the same victory as the rest of the wizarding world, the victory he played a part in.

  Nonetheless, you arrive at The Burrow the very next day.

   Molly opens the door before you've knocked, having clearly heard the faint pop of you Apparating in her front garden. A gnome runs right for your knees, but Molly shoves it away with her foot before dragging you into a bear-like hug; you can see she's been crying furiously, her eyes swollen, her face having aged a number of years in the space of a day. Her hug, though, is just as you've always remembered it, arms tight around your neck, body swaying slightly from side to side as she whispers unintelligible things in your ear.

  She pulls away and holds you at arms length; you can't imagine what she must be seeing. That young wizard she used to babysit is gone now, replaced by someone harder, someone more refined and experienced. She's not the only one who has aged a great number of years in such a short space of time.

  “How are you?” is the first thing you can manage to say.

  And already the tears are flooding her eyes again, like the question has triggered some memory she cannot fight off. Her lower lip trembles, and she humours you with a small nod before she wraps her beefy arm around your shoulders and guides you into the warmth of a home that should not be able to hold so many people but does so anyway.

  There they are – the Weasleys, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, all stood in the kitchen. They're chatting, but the conversation is hushed and it ends as soon as you make an appearance. Harry is the first to stand, offering you his hand for a handshake he is too young for; you roll your eyes and tug him into a hug. He grunts against you, but you don't even care – it has been two years since you laid eyes on the Boy Who Lived, and a handshake will simply not cut it.

    “You made it,” Hermione says, approaching you once Harry has stumbled off. She wraps her arms gently around your waist. “How was the trip?”

  “Easy enough,” you reply, lips pressed into her hair.

  “Where have you been all this time?” Bill asks.

  Still holding Hermione close, afraid of letting go lest she takes your composure with her, you say, “I've been hiding. Just a flat in Hogsmeade; a pure-blood owns it. He let a bunch of us Muggle-borns stay with him until it all died down.” You glance at Harry. “You feeling alright?”

  He nods. “Just. . . Still tired, I guess.”

  You can understand that; though you know the newspapers will never do the scene justice, you were able to gather the basic jidst of the events that took place in Hogwarts only a few days prior – the deaths, the injuries, the horrors so many young kids have seen and will now never be able to erase from their memories.

  “Well,” Molly exhales shakily. “I'll get the kettle on. Y/N, you must be starving. How does a bit of stew sound?”

  You nod, giving Molly a grateful smile before your mind zones back in on where you are, what you're here for. Instinctively you search the room for any sign of your best friend – the one that's left – and it's not exactly a surprise when you see he is not there. The rest of the Weasleys are – even Percy, who sits in the corner with his legs folded over one another, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a cup of coffee in his hands. He looks up at the feel of your eyes burning into him, surprising you by nodding towards the back door.

  You raise your brows, but follow him out nonetheless. Percy and you never truly got on – he was Fred and George's bossy older brother, and that was always what you left it as. Whenever he decided to abandon the Weasley name for the sake of his precious minister, you lost what little respect you had for him.

  Now, however, it's difficult to keep that attitude up; the other Weasleys all look exhausted, but Percy looks a little ill, stumbling over the final step the two of you descend. You grab his elbow before he can fall, and he shakes you off in his attempts to pretend he hadn't nearly fallen face first onto the concrete.

  He turns to look at you when you're a decent enough distance from the house. “I wasn't sure if you were going to be here.”

  “Of course I was going to be here,” you reply, startled by the croak in his voice, as if he hasn't spoken to anyone in weeks. “He was my best friend, Perce.”

  “I know. I know he was, but – just – with everything that happened. Mum wasn't even going to send you an owl. She was just going to let you enjoy the celebrations with everyone else. It was Dad who had to step in and tell her you had a right to know.”

  Your stomach flips. “Well I'm glad she told me. I'm – I'm glad I can be here.”

  Percy nods, looking off into the distance. “Has anyone told you what happened?”

  “No. I'm not going to make you relive it if-”

   “I was there when it happened. I watched the curse hit him.” His voice breaks, and that drives it home for you; Percy Weasley, usually so composed and professional, is struggling to form a sentence right now. He can't even bring himself to look in your direction.

  You step forward and touch his elbow, as if that will cure anything, take away his pain. His eyes close at the feel of your fingers.

  “I'm so sorry,” you mumble.

  “Yeah,” he replies shakily. “I got the bastard who did it, though.”

  You force a smile. “Good.”

     “And you know what the most fucked up part of it is?” He opens his eyes and looks at you. “My first thought wasn't even Oh God, my brothers dead. It was Oh God, George is going to be heartbroken.”

  Your lower lip trembles before you can stop it, before his words have even properly processed; it's heartbreaking to hear something like that, a blow to the gut you were not prepared for.

  Percy laughs, cold and dead. “Can you believe that?”

  “Yes,” you choke out. “Yes, I can. Where is George?”

  “In his room. He didn't want to see you yet.”

  It doesn't even hurt your feelings. You completely understand, considering you're not entirely ready to see him just yet, either.

  You glance over at the front door; everyone is beginning to gather round the kitchen table. Arthur pops his head in the window and beckons for you and Percy to hurry up; you give him a thumbs up before whirling back to Percy and grabbing his hand. He starts, eyes widening, but you hurry on before he can say anything.

  “What happened to him, Perce? What happened to Fred?”

  Percy pauses. “He was dead before he even hit the floor, Y/N. There was nothing anyone could have done.”

   You inhale shakily; you cannot cry, not right now, not whenever dinner is being served and his family has pulled themselves together. Percy pulls you into a tight hug when he sees the struggle for peace on your face; you asked for that detail to see if it would help, to see if stripping the mystery from the equation would help you heal a bit quicker, but it doesn't. Now all you can imagine as you walk back into The Burrow, tucked under Percy's arm, is that curse blasting Fred's chest cavity apart, his forever smile fading away for good.

  ---

  The next morning arrives, and you are still yet to see George.

  Molly apologises a grand number of times for his absence, but you brush it off every single time – you understand. He's healing. He's suffering, trying to process this just as much as you are. Seeing you after so long apart will only bring back fresh memories, and you don't want to be the reason behind his breakdown.

  So you keep your distance, helping Molly and Ginny with breakfast before heading out into the garden to help Ron and Charlie clean up bits of shrapnel that had been left behind from Bill and Fleur's wedding, shrapnel they weren't able to clean up with everything going on.

  Charlie keeps the conversation up, forever the chatterbox. Ron humours his older brother with little bits of laughter sprinkled in here and there, but it's obvious he wants nothing more than to just sit in silence for a little while.

    As the morning rolls into the afternoon and jobs become scarce, you find yourself walking around the garden on your own. Once upon a time, this used to be the playground for you, Fred and George – three best friends who had nowhere else to go, nothing else to do, an entire summer on their hands. Your parents never outwardly disowned you after you received your letter to Hogwarts, but they were always weary of you afterwards, as if expecting you to snap at any given moment. Their fear gave you an excuse to spend the two months of summer holidays at the Weasley's house, where you, Fred and George would play Quidditch for hours on end, hiding from Molly when you could just tell she wanted you to do a job for her.

   The memories come back to you in waves, and it hurts, but you force yourself through it, because you'd much rather remember the good times spent with Fred than sit and concentrate on the fact there will no longer be any more of those good times.

   You arrive at the tiny square of grass you used to use as a make-shift Quidditch pitch; George would haul the bins over and enchant them to float high enough in the air that you could trick yourselves into believing they really were Quidditch goal posts. You would always be Seeker, because you were good at that, and Fred and George would play against each other with the Quaffle, yelling insults that had Molly emerging from the house, threateningly waving a wooden spoon in their direction. You could never hear what she was saying from so high up, but maybe that was for the best.

  You place your hand on the fence, gazing out at the square, so unused and untouched. A gnome scatters across the centre of it and dives into a hole on the other side; you don't even try and grab it.

  The sound of footsteps makes you freeze; after months of being in hiding, any noise you cannot immediately identify has you on edge, though this is something you're trying desperately to combat; Voldemort is dead now – he doesn't have to control your life any more.

  “Mum told me you were walking about on your own, you little loner.”

  George's voice is like a song. Your favourite song. A song you haven't heard in years, but one you love no less than when you heard it every single day.

  You glance at him over your shoulder; he's still in his pyjamas, red hair stuck on end, lips chapped and cheeks sunken. His skin looks pale – paler than it usually does – but he's still smiling when his eyes meet yours. You know it's not real, but you appreciate his attempts nonetheless.

  “Yeah,” you reply. “I was just getting a bit of fresh air.”

  “Nothing fresh about the air around here.”

  “It's better than being inside.”

  George shrugs. “I didn't get the memo.”

  You hollow out your cheeks, turning back to the field. “Harry told me about your ear.”

  “Oh, did he? Did he happen to find it lying about somewhere, 'cause if so, I'd love to have it back.”

  “He said you lost it. It got blown off or something.”

  George hums. You can see his knuckles tightening on the fence, and you silently wonder if you've perhaps said too much; maybe he doesn't want to talk about that time.

  “It was Snape,” George says at last. “Knocked me out cold, so I don't remember too much. Not like I really need to – I've got all the evidence I need of it happening right here.” He turns his head, showing off the hole where his ear used to be. It looks clean, unbandaged, not very painful if his jokes and snide grin are anything to go off.

  Nonetheless, your heart skips at the sight of it; yet another moment where George needed your help and you weren't there to offer it.

  “Bloody hell, Georgie,” you whisper. “How many girls did you manage to bag with an injury like that?”

  George scoffs. “Not many, I'm afraid. Bit of a waste, I think.”

  “Definitely.”

  It's quiet for a moment. The wind whistles, and the birds chirp, and there's a gnome cursing beneath the dirt, but all you can focus on is the heavy presence of George standing beside you.

  Maybe it's not even George's presence you're focusing on. Maybe it's Fred's, because you know he's there. He's always there, making sure you and George don't step out of line or embarrass him, because now it's the job of his two closest confidants to carry on his legacy – Fred Weasley would want to keep an eye on that.

   “How are you feeling, Georgie?” you whisper, the silence suddenly too much when you think of Fred standing within it. It would never be silent if he was really here. Never. “How are you really feeling?”

  George takes a moment to answer. You glance over to see him nibbling his bottom lip, brown eyes trained on a spot in the garden where yet another gnome has just emerged and is scarping across the field to freedom. “I don't know.” He looks at you. He's taller now, so he has to look down. “What about you?”

  You shrug. “I've – I've definitely been better.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Percy hugged me.”

  “He hasn't been taking it well.”

  “I can't really blame him, poor git.”

  George chuckles; it's not a noise George usually makes, but you don't question it, knowing he isn't really himself right now.

  “The funeral's tomorrow,” he says after yet another pause. “I don't know how any of us are going to do it with dignity.”

  “Dignity isn't important at a funeral.”

  “You know full well Fred would take the mick out of us all if we showed up to his funeral sobbing our eyes out.”

  Your lips twitch, the first signs of a true smile you have worn in weeks. “I suppose so. But he's going to have to get over it, isn't he?”

  George chuckles. “You tell him, Y/N. You tell him.”

  You and George hang around the makeshift Quidditch pitch for only a few more minutes before you start back towards The Burrow; although neither of you want to acknowledge it, you have to get ready for the funeral tomorrow. Things have to be put in place for the small number of visitors who are due to arrive tomorrow morning – Fred, McGonagall, Oliver Wood, some other members of the old Quidditch team. Over the hill, you can see Molly already stressing out over everything that has to be put in place, and your heart aches for her.

  “She never slows down, your Mum,” you say before you can stop yourself.

  George hums, a fragile attempt at agreement. “Keeping busy helps take her mind off things, I think. It's when she stops that it all crashes down on her.”

  “Will she be okay tomorrow?”

  “No.”

   You're glad he isn't lying. At this moment in time, you can almost pretend it was all a dream; opening the letter, reading the news, having to come to terms with it all. None of it will truly be real until you've looked down and seen Fred's body for yourself, and maybe that's why you're dreading it so much. It's not the idea of seeing him – god, what you wouldn't give to see his smiling face one last time. It's the idea of no longer having that excuse. Once you've laid eyes on his body, any denial you have of his death will just be pitied.

  You and George head into the house and go your separate ways. You head into the bedroom you're sharing with Ginny and Hermione whilst George goes back to his own room; you don't think Molly bunked him up with anyone, considering the circumstances, and the thought of him sitting in Fred and George's room on his own makes your heart ache. You have half a mind to turn and go after him, but your plans are foiled when Ginny emerges from the bedroom and smiles warmly at you, despite the puffiness around her eyes.

  “Hey,” you say. “You alright?”

  “I was just coming to find you,” she replies. “Can we talk?”

  Anxiety prickles at your skin, but you nod and follow her into the bedroom anyway. Hermione is nowhere to be seen, though her funeral clothes have already been folded and stacked upon her camp bed, along with a packet of tissues and her wand.

  Ginny takes a seat on the end of her bed. You stand by the door, nervously biting your lip as you realise this is the first time you and Ginny have been alone since everything happened. You haven't had a proper chance to sit down with the youngest Weasley and ask her how she is truly feeling.

  Keeping her eyes on her freckled hands, she says, “Were you talking to George?”

  You tilt your head. “Y-yes. He came down to the Quidditch pitch – oh, uh – the fields, sorry, just to talk.”

  Ginny sighs, rubbing her knuckles into her eyes. She's clearly exhausted, no longer even trying to hide it. You have the urge to reach out and hug her, just as you would have done when she was younger, but Ginny has been through so much in the two years since you last seen her; she might not appreciate a hug any more, so you keep your distance.

  “And has he gone back to his room now?” she asks.

  “I think so. I think he's getting ready for. . . you know. . . tomorrow.”

  “He's not handling this well, Y/N.” She drops her hands into her lap, shaking her head grimly. “I know none of us are, but I've never seen George acting like this. The only person he's properly spoken to in three days is you.”

  Your heart lurches. “He's grieving, Ginny.”

  “We all are! We've all had to grieve before this, too.” She hollows out her cheeks, and it's only then do you spot the tears making their way to the surface of her eyes. “The Weasleys grieve together – that's how we've always done it. We're a family.”

  Something inside of you snaps. You dart forward, sitting down beside her and tugging her into your chest. It is there, wrapped tightly in your arms, that she finally lets go, sobbing into your collarbone with a ferocity you've never seen from her – not once. Not even when she used to take a tantrum every time one of her brothers got to go to Hogwarts and she didn't, not even when her cat passed away, not even when she was possessed by Lord Voldemort himself.

  She clings onto your jacket, trying to speak but being unable to do so past the sobs. You grip her tighter, stroking your hands through her red hair that hasn't been brushed in days. There are things to say, procedures to take when this kind of thing happens, but nothing you have been taught to say comes to the surface; she's heartbroken, utterly heartbroken, and you know why. Just because you're not sobbing doesn't mean you don't feel the same way.

  “Make sure George is okay,” she chokes out. “Please make sure I don't lose him, too.”

  You close your eyes, tears slipping from your eyes. “I will, mate. I'll – I'll try my best.”

  ---

  Everyone is here.

  You greet them all, because that's what is expected of you. They give you hugs and kisses on the cheek, because that's what is expected of them. Nobody wants to acknowledge the fact that nobody truly wants to be here; to the untrained eye, this gathering of black-clad wizards could very well be some kind of high school reunion.

  But it's not.

  A high school reunion would hold the air of memories, people rekindling, saying hello after a long time apart. This event holds the air of denial, sadness, saying goodbye to someone taken too soon.

  All morning you are busy taking over the jobs of Mr and Mrs Weasley; both of them are too shaky to function, though Molly tries her damned hardest to get out of her chair and do something. She ends up tipping a cup of coffee over poor Harry, and so you and the Weasley kids take over. This means you have barely any time to find George.

  He's not around. Ron told you he's still hiding in his room, not wanting to show his face until the very last minute.

  “You should go and talk to him,” says Ron, voice wobbling with the effort to keep the tears at bay. “He won't let anyone else in. Mum's tried, Dad's tried, I've given it a go.”

  You flick your wand, sending a chair across the grass where it lines up with the rest of them. “What makes you think I'll be any different?”

  “He likes talking to you. He only came out of his and Fred's-” Ron's eyes slip closed. He takes a deep breath before starting again. “He only came out of his room yesterday because he heard you arrived.”

  You bite your lip, flicking a glance back towards the house; his curtains are still shut. He might still be asleep and nobody would even know.

  You sigh, handing Ron the stack of napkins you were given. “I'll go see what I can do.”

  “Thank you, Y/N.”

  You nod and duck into the house, giving Oliver Wood a watery smile which he returns as best he can, hands trembling around a glass of pumpkin juice. You march upstairs before anyone else can see you, heading directly for the room at the end of the hallway.

  The glittering sign is still nailed to the door: Fred and George's Room. KEEP OUT!

  You wonder how long it will take for George to take that down – if he ever will.

  You knock softly and take a step back, folding your hands in front of you. For just a second, there is no answer, not even a call of Who's there? And you force yourself to step forward and knock again, a bit harder this time, lest he didn't hear you.

  Again, there is no response.

  Heart hammering, you do the last thing you can think of – you tap three times, pause, and then tap again. It's the secret knock the twins used to do on your door when they wanted you to come out with them past curfew, how you would know they were up to no good.

  There is a moments hesitation, and then, “Y/N?”

  You press your forehead against the door, relief flooding you. “Yes. It's me. Are you okay? Can I come in?”

  You pull away from the door just as it opens and George pokes his head out; his hair is still a mess, but he's wearing something other than pyjamas at least. His outfit consists of a white shirt tucked into a pair of black trousers, a black blazer hanging over one shoulder. Fred would be laughing if he could see him now.

  George gives you a tiny smile before moving out the way, offering you access. You hesitate, and George notices.

  “I know,” he mumbles. “You don't have to if you're not ready.”

  But he's been forced to sleep in this room since everything happened. He's had to endure that pain, so you will too. You brace yourself before stepping in, trying desperately to ignore the flip of your stomach, the sudden fight or flight response that is attacking your system at the sight of it all.

  The room has barely changed since the last time you stayed here nearly three summers ago. Two beds pressed against either wall, one perfectly made, the other slept in. Posters hang upon the walls of different Quidditch teams you remember they used to be mad over, and thrown in the midst of them all is a new poster you have never seen before – a poster dedicated to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

  “Mum made his bed the day we got back.” George's voice is fragile. You glance at him; he's still stood by the door, hands pushed into his pockets as he watches you wade around the room. “Fred never made his bed when he woke up, so she always used to do it for him.”

  You nod, remembering those summer mornings when all you could hear was Molly telling Fred off for – yet again – not making his bed.

  “Old habits die hard, huh?” you reply, and George hums his agreement. “Ron sent me up here to make sure you were ready.”

  George scoffs. His bed springs protest when he leaps onto his mattress. “You can go back down there and tell Ron to have a little patience. I'm fragile today.”

  “You are a little late, Georgie. Worryingly late; I thought you'd gone back to sleep.”

  George rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. You stand over his bed, arms folded over your chest. “I'd love to, but I'm afraid I have my brothers funeral to attend today.”

  You bite your lip. “You know, George...” And this is it. The sentence has started, and George's eyes have snapped to meet your own, waiting for you to finish whatever you have to say. “We're all grieving. A lot. A whole lot. But locking yourself away like this isn't going to help anything. It's not going to make anything easier. Not for you or anybody downstairs right now.”

  George stares at you, waiting for the punchline.

  “I'm serious.”

  He lifts his eyes back to the ceiling, wearing a frown you have not seen him wear in the many years you have known him. Your heart picks up, panic spiking at the idea of upsetting him; he's not going to listen to you, that much is clear. He hasn't listened to anybody else when being told the same thing, so why should you be any different?

  “Look, okay,” you hasten to add, “we'll go down there together, alright? You and me. You don't have to do this on your own.”

   “I don't want to go at all. I don't want to see him like that.”

  You sit down on the corner of his bed and grab his hand, pulling it onto your knee. The tears slip from the corners of his eyes, which he squeezes closed in an instant.

  “I know,” you mumble. “I don't, either. Nobody does. But once we've got this funeral out of the way, you're free to mourn however you want. It's over then; Fred will be peaceful, and we can . . . we can move on. We can try and move on. That's what he'd want us to do.”

  George's shoulders jerk, a silent sob. Tears of your own flood your eyes. You grab his shoulders and pull him up, pulling him into a hug that reminds you so much of last night, the exact same scene but a different Weasley sibling. You just want to comfort them all; you want to round up each and every one of them and pull them into this embrace, let them know it will all be okay and you will not leave them to suffer on their own, not like last time. You will be there for all of them through everything if they'll let you.

  George's arms wrap around your middle. He rests his head on your shoulder, stifling his sobs as best he can; he's better at it than Ginny, who all but wailed into your collarbone yesterday evening. George doesn't want to be seen like this, but it's clear he can't hold back any more.

  “It's okay,” you whisper. “It'll be fine. We'll go downstairs together.”

  He nods, pulling away slowly. He bites his lip, glances at your shoulder and says, “I got tears on your shirt.”

  You shake your head, brushing his hair out of his face with trembling hands. “Don't worry about it. Fred would say it adds flare.”

  “He would,” George chokes out. “He really would.”

  And so, the two of you stand and head towards the door, hand-in-hand. George hesitates before shutting his bedroom door behind him, and you pretend not to see the way he gently runs his fingers over Fred's name engraved in the metal sign.

  You walk downstairs slowly. Heads start turning when you appear in the doorway of the kitchen, George all-but cowering behind you, his hand still in your own. You run your thumb along his knuckles, giving his awaiting family members a smile despite their eyes all being trained on George.

  Molly is the first one to run forward. A cry escapes her lips, and you have only seconds to jump out of the way before she barrels through the doorway and into George's arms; George grunts, stumbling before he catches his balance and hugs his mother back with just as much enthusiasm as she is showing. You slowly remove yourself from the scene, letting the rest of the Weasley family file in to mimic their mothers actions.

  “So you did it,” Harry says when you find yourself standing at the back of the room with him. “You got him to come downstairs.”

  “He just needed some coaxing,” you reply, wiping your eyes. “Is Fred here?”

  “Kingsley's just brought his body back.” Harry nods out the window, but you don't follow his gesture because you know exactly what is going to be there; the back garden, chairs all lined up, Fred's casket set up at last. You can only imagine that is the reason the Weasley family is stood inside – they don't want to be around it any longer than they have to be.

  But they cannot hold off forever. Arthur and Molly head out first, Arthur with his arm around Percy's shoulders, Molly holding Ginny's hand. Together, the Weasleys take their seats at the very front of the garden, each sobbing quietly into handkerchiefs and sleeves and partners' shoulders. You, Harry and Hermione take the seats directly behind them whilst everyone else files in behind you.

  And you see him up there, eyes closed, hair styled, suit perfectly pressed. His hands have been folded on his chest, and his wand has been tucked into his fingers. Standing beside his casket is a picture of him and George – because there is not a picture in existence where the two of them are on their own, not one – and Fred is pulling a funny face whilst George looks off into the distance, oblivious to the photo being taken.

  It hurts. It hurts worse than you ever imagined it would, but you can't bring yourself to cry – not whenever his body is right there in front of you. Fred used to chastise you every time he saw you cry, swat you over the shoulder, make some wise-crack comment along the lines of, “What do you have to cry about? You have me!”

  You always did have him. You always will have him, as long as you keep his memory alive.

  Kingsley says a few words, kind words that speak of Fred's bravery and his knowledge and how he did not die in vain. They sound so official coming from him now that he's the temporary Minister of Magic, but you know for a fact Fred would have appreciated it, scripted or not. Oliver Wood says some things, and Molly and Arthur try their hardest to get some words out about their son, but it doesn't go to plan and they end up just sitting down, passing the baton onto Percy who makes a big, emotional speech about how he and Fred didn't always get along, and how he's glad they managed to find peace with each other during those last few hours of complete turmoil within the Hogwarts castle.

  George doesn't make a speech. Neither do you.

  The funeral ends with the burning of the body. Kingsley waves his wand and the white curtains fall from nowhere, closing around the casket, and soon, the only thing you can see is the smoke billowing from the top of them. The air suddenly erupts with the smell of black current – one of Fred's favourite scents – and people are standing, giving each other hugs, crying.

  You and George stay seated, him directly in front of you. You don't tap his shoulder, don't move, don't say anything at all – you just watch his shoulders rise and fall as he tries desperately to keep his breathing slow and steady. He's staring at his brothers casket like he can't quite believe it's there, and you don't blame him, because you're feeling the same way.

  How can a ten minute ceremony be enough to celebrate the life of someone like Fred Weasley? How can a few words passed between people who knew him be enough to remember the wonders he discovered, the joy and laughter he brought upon so, so many lives? It doesn't seem possible. It's ludicrous, completely unfair, and suddenly the sadness you have felt since hearing the news is morphing into anger, and you have the urge to just scream, to just let your lungs rip in half with the fury that rushes through you at a million miles per hour.

  But in real life, you're rooted to your seat, fingers curling against the back of George's chair, staring at the smoke rising high, high, higher into the air, disappearing amongst the clouds – Fred's final resting place.

  George stands up.

  It's so abrupt. It takes you a second to even comprehend what he is doing as his chair tips back against your knees, only failing to fall due to you still being seated behind it. Your head snaps up, mouth opening to call him back, but you don't get a chance to say anything before Angelina Johnson is grabbing you and pulling you to your feet, into an embrace you were not prepared for in the slightest.

  “Oh, Y/N, I knew you'd be here! I knew you'd make it! Fred would have been so happy to see you and George back together again!”  You laugh awkwardly, watching George march up to The Burrow over her shoulder.

  ----

  George doesn't make an appearance for the rest of the day.

  The guests Disapparate, giving the Weasleys some much needed time and space after the exhausting day they have just performed. You, Harry and Hermione head up to bed for the same reason, crowding in Harry and Ron's room for a few hours before you and Hermione excuse yourselves for the night.

  Hermione is asleep in minutes, and you can't really blame her. Not only has that girl gone to hell and back these past few days, she's also had to deal with the additional baggage of death. She has fought absolute monsters, seen things no person of her age should ever see, had to think quicker than anyone just to stay alive – and now that it's over, she's been given the additional task of mourning people she loves.

  You, however, struggle to close your eyes without the thoughts flooding your mind, making you restless. You keep remembering his body, the tip of his nose peaking out from the casket, the smoke that billowed, the smell of black current that was surely conjured to hide the smell of Fred's burning flesh; god, you want to throw up. You feel ill, and angry, and you want to punch something so, so desperately.

  Back in your school days, George taught you how to use Quidditch as a way to get your anger out; he and Fred had been the best Beaters the Gryffindor had ever seen, and they claim it was solely because they got themselves riled up before a game. They would make themselves so angry that the idea of volleying a heavy ball at someone was all that could calm them down again.

  That's what you need right now; a good game of Quidditch, a Bludger to just annihilate someone. But you have none of that; all you have right now is your pillow, which you shove your fist into multiple times over now with no results. Your stomach still feels tight, and tears are still threatening to reach the surface, and you're beginning to lose hope that you'll ever feel calm and collected ever again.

  The clock has struck four am when you finally give up trying to sleep. You slip your feet into a pair of carpet slippers – courtesy of Hermione – and head downstairs, pulling a dressing gown on as you do so. The kitchen is barren, the sun just starting to peak over the green hills surrounding the cosy cottage. From the window you can see a garden gnome furiously kick a wicket chair before howling in pain and bouncing back into the floor to go and huff on its own.

  You head outside. The fresh air feels nice on your skin – cold, but it's enough to bring you back to reality a little bit. You walk across the garden, and before you know why, you're sitting down in the very same chair you sat in whilst watching people talk about your dead best friend, like you want to relive that moment all over again.

  But this time you're on your own. It's just you and the chairs, and the odd garden gnome that sprints across the grass, sees you and then sprints in the other direction. You fold your legs over one another, stare at the space Fred's casket once stood, and then you start speaking.

  “Miss you, buddy.” It starts as a whisper, hoarse and fragile. “Thank you, for everything. Fighting for the sake of the world – you're braver than me. I couldn't have done it. I was – I was hiding away in my flat, pretending nothing was happening, convincing myself you two weren't stupid enough to get yourself into any danger.” You close your eyes, tilting your head back, talking directly to him now. “Nothing feels right any more, Fred. The world isn't meant to be without a Fred Weasley. George isn't meant to be without a Fred Weasley. God, I'm not meant to be without a Fred Weasley.”

  The tears start trickling, running quickly down your cheeks and disappearing within the corners of your mouth.

  “I'll make sure he's okay, Freddie,” you whisper. “George, I mean. We'll keep each other sane, I promise. You can watch over us and – and make sure w-we keep each other in ch-check. I won't let him out of my sight ever again.”

  “Y/N?”

  Your head snaps up, eyes opening. Standing in the pink light of the slowly rising sun is George Weasley, wand in hand, still dressed in the very same clothes he was wearing earlier. His tie has been pulled loose from its knot and is now cascading messily down his middle, a few of his buttons undone, his hair back to being a disgruntled mess.

  You stand up. “What are you doing out of bed?”

  “You sound like Filch.” He tilts his head to the side, just enough to let you see the bags under his eyes. “What are you doing?”

   You awkwardly kick at the ground. “Nothing.”

  “Mhm.” George walks over, examining each of the chairs as he does so. “You were talking to him, weren't you?”

  You don't reply; he knows. You don't feel a need to confirm it for him, not when he probably heard every single thing you said.

  “I can't do it,” he continues. “It feels weird not having him say the exact same thing as me. My voice isn't meant to be on its own.”

  “Yeah,” you croak out. “I noticed that, too.”

  “I'll get past it,” he mumbles. “I just. . . I just wanted everyone to leave today, you know? I didn't want all these people in my house, staring at my brothers dead body, crying over him like that. This was supposed to be a family event.”

  A tinge of guilt stamps an imprint into your heart. “Right. Should Harry, Hermione and I have left?”

  George purses his lips. “You guys are family – it's everyone else I was a bit iffy with.”

  And maybe it's the anger from earlier that boils over now. Maybe it's the reminder that George left – halfway through his brothers funeral, he got up and left his family, his grieving family, to deal with everything. You know he's upset, heartbroken, downright traumatised, but so is everyone else. Nobody is taking this lightly. Nobody was here today just for the sake of it.

  You curl your hands into fists. “George, you're being really selfish right now.”

  His head snaps up. “What?”

  “How can you sit there and say you wish those people who came today had just stayed home? Do you think they wanted to be in this situation any more than you did? God, You-Know-Who was killed a few days ago – people want to be out celebrating their freedom, not going to the funeral of one of their friends. None of this is easy on anyone, so it's really bloody ungrateful of you to say they should have just stayed home, because I'm almost positive that's what most of them wanted to be doing in the first place!”

   George's eyes cloud over. “Fred wouldn't have wanted the Ministry taking over his funeral.”

  “Kingsley knew Fred just as well as I did!”

  “No he didn't! You and Fred were best friends – Kingsley was part of the Order. That's how he knew Fred – through business! That isn't a bloody friendship!”

  “So, what? Kingsley should have just moved on, walked away whenever he looked down and saw Fred's body that day in the castle, huh? Because god forbid somebody grieve if they don't know someone for more than seven years!”

  George throws his hands in the air, face beaming red. “You're putting words in my mouth now, you are. You know that's not what I meant-”

  “Yeah? Well, maybe you should learn how to word things better, because at the minute you're sounding like an absolute arse!”

  George opens his mouth to respond, but you're crying. You're crying, and you can't stop it, and you don't want him to see you like this. You dart off before he can get the words out, cracking your shoulder against his before picking up your pace to a run, darting back towards the house. Behind you, George calls your name, but you don't listen. You shove past Charlie, who stands in the kitchen door with a mug of coffee, and head directly to your room, not wanting to talk to anyone.

  ---

  Charlie comes to visit you a few hours later.

  It's eight o'clock now; Hermione has risen, said good morning and headed off to help Mrs Weasley make breakfast. You stayed huddled under the covers, using the excuse of exhaustion as a way to get her to leave without worrying too much; as soon as she was gone, you had pulled yourself from your bed and headed to the window, where you have been for a while now, dreading the moment you will have to go downstairs and face George again.

  Charlie knocks softly on your door before letting himself in. He's wearing a pair of grey sweatpants this morning along with an oversized jacket. His skin has been paler since he came home from Romania, since his little brother died, since it felt as if his world was falling apart. This morning, he looks a bit better, as if the relief of having finally set Fred free was a weight from his shoulders.

  “Morning,” he says. “You alright?”

  “Yeah, I'm fine. You?”

  He closes the door and walks to your side, placing his head against the wall as he, too, takes to gazing out the window. “I'm good. Better than I was yesterday. Worse than I'll probably be tomorrow.”

  “What a Charlie way to answer that question.”

  He smiles before nudging your arm. “You gonna talk to me about what happened this morning?”

  You purse your lips and look away. Charlie gazes at you, waiting for you to say something, anything, but you don't really know what he wants to hear – that you're sorry? That you were tired and heartbroken and it just kind of happened all at once, a jumbled mess you couldn't quite keep track of?

  That's not what it was at all. It was the truth spilling from your lips, though you will admit you now wish you could have executed it with a little bit more sympathy. George, the man who has been your best friend for so many years, didn't deserve that kind of treatment – not after everything. Not when there's still so much more to come.

  Charlie sighs, folding his muscled arms across his chest. “You know George loves you, right?”

  “And I love him.”

  Charlie pauses, contemplative. “I just – I don't know what you two were arguing about, but I think it would be a real shame for George to lose two loved ones, which is what is going to happen if you don't talk to each other. Do you want to cut ties with him?”

  Your head snaps up. “No! No, of course not. Look, Charlie, the argument wasn't even that serious. We just-”

  “If it wasn't that serious, then why did George punch a whole in the dry wall when I tried to ask him what happened?”

  You pause, mouth running dry. Charlie raises a brow, leaning against the wall. Your voice is quiet when you say, “He did what?”

  “He punched a hole in the wall. Tried to punch me, too.” He sighs. “Obviously, a scrawny little git like him compared to me didn't get very far, but it was the intent that shocked me; George hasn't got a violent bone in his body. Not a properly violent one, anyway – a few dangerous pranks here and there, but he would never want to genuinely fight someone. I think this whole thing is getting to him – and bad. The only time he's been calm is when you've been in his bloody eyeline.”

  “He tried punching you?”

  Charlie waves a dismissive hand. “That isn't the part of that speech I wanted you to pick up on.”

 You close your eyes, pressing your head against the window. “I lost my temper, started an argument with him for no reason. I should have realised he's not in the right head space – he isn't talking right, Charlie. He isn't himself.”

  “Well, no, I wouldn't say he is.” Charlie leans forward. “But right now, the only person getting through to him is you. How I see it, you're the only person who's going to drag him through this before he hurts himself or somebody else.”

   “That's a lot of pressure, Charlie.”

  “Has it been difficult talking to him since you got here?”

  “No.”

 “Then you're fine. Just keep doing what you're doing.” Charlie stands up straight, brushing his hands down his jacket as he does so. “Mum said breakfast is gonna be ready in a few minutes if you're feeling hungry. If not, don't tell her that or she'll be up here in two seconds flat with the thermometer out; she did it to Ron a few days ago, gave him a right telling off when it turned out he just wanted to stay in bed for a bit longer.”

  You nod, giving him a warm, grateful smile as he walks out of the room.

  You give his words thorough thought; though your brain is no less exhausted, and your heart no less broken, you can see where you went wrong now better than you would have been able to at four this morning; Charlie has helped you realise that perhaps everyone needs to be a bit patient with each other right now, needs to learn how to put themselves in other people's shoes.

  You get changed and head downstairs. Sure enough, breakfast is already being served, and everyone besides George is already sitting round the table. You take a seat next to Hermione and tuck in, trying to regain some energy sapped due to your lack of sleep.

  Once breakfast is finished, you head straight to George's room. Charlie gives you an enthusiastic thumbs up when he turns away from the washing up basin and sees you heading upstairs; you give him a smile, though a nervous one.

  You have to do this now. You have to talk to him, tell him you're sorry, explain yourself a bit better than you did earlier, and if you don't do it now, you're going to back out and you won't ever do it. And so, you reach his door and do the secret knock that granted you access yesterday, and you wait.

  There's a shuffling on the other side, followed shortly by George's soft voice calling, “What?”

  “Hey, mate. Can I come in and talk to you for a minute?” You wince at how formal you sound – this is George you're speaking to, your best mate, the person you've grown up with. “Please?”

  “You're just gonna tell me off again, aren't you?”

  “No, George, don't be daft. Open the bloody door, or-”

  “Yeah, yeah, shut up.” The door opens, revealing the exhausted looking George. He isn't smiling, but instead keeps his eyes narrowed when he looks at you. “Do you wanna come in, too?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don't ask for much, do you?” He rolls his eyes and steps out of the way, granting you access to the room that still sends eerie chills racing along your arms, because Fred is no longer occupying it, too.

  You push these thoughts from your brain and enter, immediately spinning around with your arms folded. “Our argument was stupid.”

  George falters, one hand still secure round the doorknob. “Come again?”

  “Everything I said to you was stupid, and said in a fit of blind rage. I didn't mean it. Not really.”

  “Right...”

 “So, yeah.” You nod, glance around the room once before saying, “That's all I wanted to say.”

  “Is it now?”

  “Yes. I'll see you at lunch if you fancy coming down for a bit of food. If not, I'll – uh – see you when I-” You try to step around him, but he's quicker, blocking the door. You bite your lip. “George-”

  “Nothing you said earlier was wrong, you know.”

   You lift your eyes, and the tension in the room suddenly becomes a physical thing. He's staring down at you, that exhausted look in his eyes that he's worn for weeks pushed to the forefront. His lips are still chapped, and his knuckles are white around the handle of the door. You want to push his hair out of his face, but you're scared he'll push you away or cringe from your touch if you even try.

  “I was being a selfish little git when I walked off, and I should have been – should have been thankful to have so many people come out to send Fred off. He would have liked that, I think, having a crowd around him.”

  You laugh softly. “He always did enjoy the attention; you both did.”

 “Oi.” He nudges your shoulder. “You were part of our group, you know. You liked the attention just as much as we did.”

  And he isn't wrong. So many pranks, so many years of getting into trouble, so many years filled with laughter. When it felt like the world was falling apart, when your parents stopped talking to you, stopped asking you to come home for Christmas, stopped sending you owls – it was Fred and George who reminded you that you didn't need anyone. You were perfect on your own.

  “I agree that our argument was stupid,” he says softly. “But you were right.”

  “I shouldn't have made you feel bad-”

  “You could never make me feel bad. Not with a voice like that.”

  You roll your eyes, shoving his shoulder. He laughs, stumbling back into the door. You realise with a jolt that this is the first time you've heard him laugh since you arrived at The Burrow, and it seems as if George is realising this too. His smile fades uncertainly, as if he's not allowed to let himself laugh, not allowed to let himself smile when Fred isn't around to join in.

  You tilt your head to the side. “Well that's a step in the right direction.”

  He closes his eyes. “I haven't had the chance to tell you how happy I am that you're here.”

   “Of course I'm here. I would never miss-”

  “No, I know.” He opens his eyes and shrugs. “I'm glad you're here to – like – mourn Fred and all that, but I'm glad you're here for me. Most people would have given up on me by now. Nobody would have bothered putting me in my place.”

  You shudder, can hardly help it when you're hearing him speak like this; it's so weird, so not what you're used to, but it hits a nerve nonetheless. You have the sudden urge to throw your arms around him, to pull him in for a hug that means more than just It's going to be okay.

  “I'm a complete state when you are here, but I wouldn't even function if you weren't,” he continues, nervously scratching the back of his neck. “Everyone's told you that already, though, haven't they?”

  You bite your lip to suppress the giggle. “I've heard I've been a good helping hand.”

  George rolls his eyes. “Don't let it go to your head. No one likes an arrogant bastard.”

  Your grin breaks to the surface before you can stop it. It feels weird upon your face after spending so long believing you would never smile again, and yet with George stood in front of you, it couldn't make more sense. You're brought back to your Hogwarts days, when this very smile would never leave your face, was a permanent fixture to your expression. And it doesn't feel like you're back there – it will never feel like that again, not with Fred missing – but it's a start. It's the first step back into the normal world.

  Looking up at George's smile now makes you feel like you're walking back into it, slowly, with George by your side.

  ----

  “So what's the point of all this then?” you ask, struggling to fight your way through the crowd of screaming school kids.

  George moves with such grace, not even pausing when a group of kids nearly bowl him over in their struggle to reach the Pigmy Puff pens on the other side of the shop. He's grinning from ear to ear as he walks, his fancy, dragon skin blazer billowing out around him.

  “This, my dear Y/N, is what Fred and I have built from the ground up – and we're about to take it to the next level.”

   You raise a brow at his back. “Oh?”

  “Oh, indeed!” He hurries up a flight of winding stairs and stops at the top. He spins and smiles at you, pulling a sheet of paper from his blazer pocket with that dramatic flair you love so much. “Have a read of this and tell me how proud you are of me, right now. Quickly!”

  You roll your eyes, snatching the parchment and unrolling it. At the very top are the words Dear Mr and Mr Weasley, followed by the announcement that Weasley's Wizard Wheezes will be opening a shop in multiple areas around England and Northern Ireland.

  Your eyes widen, snapping back up to George who is staring at you fixedly, waiting for your reaction. You don't even have words. All you can do is stare at him, jaw open, hands beginning to tremble.

  George glances at your shaking hands and laughs, rushing down the steps towards you. He snatches the parchment back and bundles you in his arms, laughing brightly into your hair.

  “Don't show too much excitement, Y/N, we're in public!”

   “George Weasley, you brilliant old git!” You wrap your arms around his waist, burying your head in his chest, and together, the two of you laugh – you just laugh, unable to fully process that this tiny little business Fred and George have always dreamed about will finally be taking off, dotting itself around the globe for wizards everywhere to enjoy.

  You pull away from the celebration and yank the parchment back, giving it yet another read. “Mr and Mr Weasley – you and Fred?”

  “Of course,” George confirms. “I sent the request letter in using both of our names – it didn't feel right just signing it with my name and my name only. Fred would kill me if I did that.”

  “Aye, it's better not to take the risk. I'm still convinced he's punishing me for ordering that BBQ base pizza the other night.”

  “Yeah, definitely.”

  You reread the contract over and over again, grin getting wider every single time. It gets to the point where George groans and has to pry it from your hands, getting tired of watching you read the same sentence over and over again.

  You look at him and shake your head. “It's so cool that I'm able to say my best friend is a businessman. A real life businessman.”

  George cocks a brow. “You're gonna use me to make yourself look good, are you?”

  “You still owe me for that time I got you out of detention with Umbridge – it's the least you can do.”

  George laughs, bundling you in his arms again. “Just remember to mention Fred when you're giving us the good reviews – he'd appreciate it.”

   And you know, somewhere out there, Fred is nodding, saying, “You've done a brilliant job, Georgie.”

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter fic #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #hp #hp imagine #hp fanfiction #hp fic #hp angst #harry potter angst #george weasley #george weasley fic #george weasley imagine #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley x reader #weasley twins fanfiction #weasley twins #weasley twins fanfic #weasley twins fic #weasley twins imagine

[myboipotterimagines]

Santa, Baby - Sirius Black x Reader

Request:  Hi! Could I request a Sirius Black holiday imagine? It’s their last year at Hogwarts and all the friends stay at Hogwarts for Christmas? It’s super fluffy? And Sirius proposes ? :) thank you

(A/N: Merry Christmas and happy holidays y'all!!)

Christmas isn’t that fun when you’re afraid death is at every corner. Or death eaters, to be more precise. With Voldemort very prevalent, more students remained at Hogwarts than ever before. Parents knew that this was the safest place for their children to be. Some students went home, of course, but the Houses had never been this full over holiday. 

Especially with first years. 

When you were a first year you remembered how ecstatic you were to return home after your first term. You couldn’t imagine being forced to stay at school. But, that was the reality for a lot of the first years. So, of course you took it upon yourselves to make this the best Christmas yet. Believe it or not, it was Sirius’s idea. 

“I know what it’s like to stay here as a first year. Trust me, it sucks. You’re not that close to anyone yet and you feel just,” he pauses, grimacing slightly, “alone.” You grab his hand, rubbing your thumb over his. “It’s legally our job now to make this the best Christmas ever.”  “Okay, let’s do this,” you stated, looking around the group to find agreement. “What do we need?” “Ooh!” James exclaimed. “What’s that thing that muggle kids believe in? Fat dude with the moose?” “First off, how can you be so close and still so far?” Remus asks, bewildered.  “His name is Santa and it’s reindeer, not moose,” Lily explains, rolling her eyes. 

“Alright, we need a Santa. Any volunteers?” Sirius asks. James shoots his hand up. “Not. James. Every first year knows who you are. It’ll ruin the illusion.”  “You could do it,” you suggest. “They’d never suspect you.”  “(Y/N),” Sirius starts.  “Come on, they won’t. And it was your idea. Please?” you ask, pouting slightly.  “Alright,” Sirius agrees. “So what else are we doing?”

“Decorations, for sure,” Peter chimed in. “We can do it after lights out.”  “Good idea,” Remus agreed. “What about gifts? These kids are all probably used to at least one Christmas gift.” The group was quiet for a moment before Lily spoke up. “Molly can knit really well. You know that one sweater she wears to quidditch games? She made that herself.” “I can help her,” Remus added. “I don’t know advanced things but I’m kinda familiar with the basics.” 

The night went on as you discussed your Christmas plans. Growing tired, you slowly sunk into Sirius’s shoulder. 

_________________________________________

Crowded into the Gryffindor common room was the entire Gryffindor student body. While originally planning for only the younger students, you realized everyone needed a little pick-me-up. This included all of the other houses, as well. You met with all of the seventh years and made plans for each house to have their own celebration. But, you still favored that of Gryffindor. The common room was flooded with Christmas decorations. No corner was safe from tinsel and stockings. 

On a large chair in the front of the common room sat Sirius, decked in full Santa gear. 

“Don’t laugh,” Sirius told you when he first put it on.” You shook your head, tears escaping your eyes. “Okay you can laugh a little,” Sirius allowed. 

He was a natural. He started with the first years, calling each student out by name. They each got to spend time with him, some sitting on his lap, others simply giving him a high-five. He went through every student until he eventually got to the seventh years. James was first, practically jumping on his lap. Lily and Remus were more reserved, deciding to go up together. Peter couldn’t stop laughing so we cut his encounter short. And finally, it was your turn. 

“Hello, Santa,” you smiled, sitting on Sirius’s left knee.  “Now,” Sirius asked, “have you been naughty or nice this year?”  You turned to the first years. “What do you guys think?”  “Nice!” they yelled, giggles filling the room.  Sirius shook his head, “I’m not sure with this one. I’ll go ahead and put you on the nice list but you better step your game up next year.”  “How generous, thank you, Santa,” you laughed before standing up. 

The students wished Santa a merry Christmas, and Sirius was out of there. You made sure all of the students were in bed before joining Sirius upstairs. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but you make a really good Santa.” You climbed in bed beside Sirius, nestling yourself under his arm.  “I have many gifts,” he laughed.  “Yes you do,” you whispered, leaning up to kiss his cheek. 

In the darkness of the common room, you couldn’t tell if Sirius was awake or asleep. “Hey, Siri?” you ask possibly no one.  “Yes, love?” his voice whispers back.  “Thank you for everything. I love you and am so so proud of you,” you whisper, your voice shaking slightly.  Sirius inhales deeply. “I love you, too. I know that this is supposed to be some fancy gesture but that’s not us,” Sirius whispers, shifting his weight to a sitting position. He continues. “I love you so much and can’t imagine a life without you in it. Will you marry me?” Moonlight illuminates his figure, allowing you to see his messy hair and tear stained cheeks. You nod, your throat tight and hot. “Of course,” you choke out. You both let out laughs, before Sirius pulls you to meet him. The kiss was messy and perfect and real. He pulled apart. “I don’t have a ring,” he admits. 

You laugh gently. “I don’t need a ring.” You lay back down, pulling Sirius with you. 

___________________________________

You don’t know how Molly did it, but she knitted sweaters for every student at Hogwarts. Of course, she had the help of Remus and a few others, but the heavy lifting was all her. You and Sirius open yours together, finding matching maroon and gold sweaters. Soon, everyone looked like the family that you always have been. As much as you loved home, this was a memory you would never forget. You and Sirius sat together in an arm chair, cramped but comfortable. At the foot of the chair sat Remus, laughing at something James had said. James was, of course, wrapped around Lily. Once he got hold of her, he never lets go. Peter sat beside Molly, the two lost in conversation. Other students ran about, laughing and singing Christmas songs, old and new alike. All was well. 

#sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #hp imagine #hp #sirius black #harry potter imagine #harry potter #Christmas imagine

[mrsrcbinscn]

Franny Sor Framagucci Robinson Character Sheet 

Dear Mom and Dad, I'll send money, I'm so rich that it ain't funny It oughtta be more than enough to get you through - (x)

Archetype — The Creator 

Birthday — January 17, 1980

Zodiac Sign — Capricorn

MBTI — ENFJ-A (The Protagonist — 93% Extroverted, 56% Intuitive, 60% Feeling, 60% Judging, 83% Assertive)

Enneagram — Type 3w2 — The Charmer

Temperament — Sanguine 

Hogwarts House — Slytherin Primary, Hufflepuff Primary model, Gryffindor Secondary

Moral Alignment —  Lawful Good

Primary Vice — Pride

Primary Virtue — Charity or Diligence 

Element — Air

Song —  A Better Son/Daughter by Rilo Kiley

Overview:

Government name  —  Darareaksmey Francine Sor Framagucci Robinson Name  —  Franny Robinson/Franny Sor Robinson Mother — Sophea “Sophie” Sor

Father — Adrien Framagucci (stepfather, legally adopted her), Peter Boyd (biological father)

Mother’s Occupation — Restaurant owner 

Father’s Occupation — Construction worker

Family Finances — grew up in poverty, insanely wealthy now

Birth Order — Youngest

Brothers — stepbrothers Gaston and Art Framagucci (mother legally adopted them, if you say ‘step’ Franny will kill you), claims no others but has biological half brothers from Peter Boyd; John-Curtis “JC”  Boyd, Timothy “Timmy” Boyd

Sisters — claims none, but has biological half sisters by Peter Boyd; Sarah Boyd, Stacy Boyd, Shyann Boyd 

Other Close Family — spreadsheet

Best Friend — Daniel Maitland, Molly Vaughn (deceased)

Other Friends — Lora Lopez, Serghei Anton, Delia Weiss, Vanessa Pham, others

Enemies — most men on principle 

Home Life During Childhood — It was a good childhood. Working the restaurant was normal to Franny so she didn’t realize it was abnormal at first. Her parents tried not to let the kids realize how poor they actually were. 

Town or City Name(s) — Payne Lake, Georgia

Any Sports or Clubs — In high school she was in drama, show choir, orchestra, National Honor Society, and on the quiz bowl team

Favorite Toy or Game — Franny honestly loved hide and seek well into her teenage years because she was small enough to fit it the weirdest places to hide, and in the 80s and 90s in a small town in Georgia there wasn’t much to do so her friend group played Extreme Hide and Seek. Everyone wears all black like some kind of cult. Turn off all the lights in the house. Go crazy. 

Schooling — K-12 in Payne Lake, Georgia ; B.A.s. in Musical Theatre Performance and Jazz Studies at NYU; M.A. in Jazz Studies at Pride U

Favorite Subject — Anything that wasn’t math or chemistry 

Popular or Loner — Popular, has always been magnetic 

Important Experiences or Events — Her first time on stage, getting enough scholarship money to justify going to NYU, quickly growing to love the nerd she hit up to buy her waffles and never letting him go, the accident that changed her life, marrying Cornelius Robinson, finding the magic singing frogs, adopting Wilbur, discovering the severity of her fertility issues in 2008, 

Nationality — American-Cambodian (born American, given Cambodian citizenship in 2019)

Culture — Franny identifies most strongly with Cambodian, followed by broadly Southeast Asian sometimes with Buddhist attached, and that’s tied with ‘Rural Southern (USA)’ sometimes with POC attached. Franny feels pretty detached from “American Culture” in general. She more closely would identify with Southern USA culture in general than with general American with no modifiers. She also feels a little detached from Asian American culture in general because even though she grew up right outside of Atlanta and is familiar with Atlanta, she didn’t grow up in one of the big hubs of Asian American culture like LA, San Francisco, or NYC. White American and Black American culture surrounded her, and the Asian cultures surrounding her were immigrant or first-gen cultures that hadn’t really developed an American flavor yet. Franny understood more about Vietnamese and Thai culture than she did about general Asian American culture for a long time, because immigrants straight from Southeast Asia were the only Asians she grew up around. And she grew up in the 80s and 90s where Asian representation was yellowface and Long Duk Dong. She didn’t meet any Asian Americans who didn’t speak or at least understand their heritage language until college. And the experience of POC as a whole in the South is very different to the experience of a white person, so sometimes Franny feel disconnected from her white southern neighbors and more closely relates to black or non-white Latinx southerners in ways she doesn’t relate to white southerners, or Asian Americans from LA or NYC. 

Religion and beliefs — Buddhist

Languages spoken— Khmer, English, Vietnamese, French, Italian, (less fluently) Portuguese, Spanish, (can understand some) Thai, Lao, (impressive tourist) German, Dutch

Physical Appearance

Face Claim —  Elodie Yung

Complexion — Tanned skin, pale brown 

Hair Colour — Black

Eye Colour — Brown

Height — 5’5

Tattoos — Yes, a few. Wilbur’s adoption date over her heart, most notably

Piercings — Lobe, upper lobe, tragus, helix, and cartilage on both ears, and an anti-tragus on her left ear. And a nose piercing she got in college

Common Hairstyle — typically keeps her hair long and done nicely but she cuts it and donates it from time to time so will also rock short hair

Clothing Style — vintage-inspired but not proper vintage

Mannerisms — Biting the pads of her thumbs, gesturing wildly, narrating her actions sometimes in song, if she’s looking for scissors she walks through the house making a scissors motion with her fingers

Usual Expression — she’s got resting bitch face 

Health

Overall (do they get sick easily)? — No, her immune system is the real MVP and when she does get sick she’s like ‘I’m dYING’

Physical Ailments —  Infertility 

Neurological Conditions — Depression, Cyclothymia (rapid cycles of depressive and hypomanic episodes)

Allergies —  none 

Grooming Habits — Typically rinses her body daily, uses soap on the armpits daily, but proper washes her body every other day. Washes her hair every two or three days as needed, but if she was extra sweaty that day it gets washed. Waxes leg hair and eyebrows. 

Sleeping Habits — she generally gets a decent amount of sleep but it isn’t usually all at once. She’s a champion power-napper, and if she has three days cleared she’ll often sleep mainly all at once except have like a 2-3 hour period of wakefulness and productivity and then go back to sleep for two more hours, then take an hour nap later in the day.  

Eating Habits —  She’s a grazer. She doesn’t usually sit down and eat three times a day she’ll sneak like five small meals a day

Exercise Habits —   works out at least three days a week somewhat because she’s really sensitive to when people comment on her body so she’s afraid to give people a reason to say a negative comment. Like. She’s body positive, big supporter of you don’t gotta be skinny to be beautiful or healthy. But when people say things like “oh Franny you got a little jiggle in those thighs” it’s never said like a good or neutral thing. She had a lot of body image issues throughout high school and college, and came dangerously close to developing an eating disorder freshman year at NYU but kind of logicked herself from the ledge  

Emotional Stability — generally emotionally stable, like for someone with her mental illnesses she does great 

Body Temperature — runs hot 

Sociability — A social butterfly

Addictions — None; did abuse adderall in college but when she quit cold turkey she didn’t like. Suffer cravings. She wasn’t addicted, but she did abuse it to the point she realized “oh I need to...stop”

Drug Use — occasional use of drugs to make her trip, like acid, shrooms, but this is very rare, she doesn’t do it at home, usually if she’s on the road with other musicians or has gone to LA or NYC or London for a few days to have a songwriting session, the group will sometimes partake. Even then not every time. Used to experiment with drugs more in college, but still it was never...a TON. 

Alcohol Use — More than occasional less than frequent

Your Character’s Character: 

Bad Habits — swearing, next to no filter, temper when it comes to perceived injustices, tends to overload herself 

Good Habits — Keeps a detailed planner, is a maniac about drinking lots of water, is vocal about her needs and boundaries 

Best Characteristic — her warmth! She really is friendly and easy to get along with and wants to be nice. But she will not be walked over and will not allow her kind, marshmallow husband to be walked over so she will flip a switch to protect herself or her boys. 

Worst Characteristic — unforgiving

Worst Memory — it’s a tie between her experience with sexual assault, and the time her biological father’s wife found out Franny was his biological child, and came into her mother’s restaurant when she was visiting with her pretty new HUSBAND, and Nancy Boyd proceeded to beat up Franny and her mother

Best Memory — Adopting Wilbur! It WAS marrying Cornelius but sorry Neil it’s her baby boy now

Proud of — Her husband, she is so proud to be Cornelius Robinson’s wife. She proud to be her mother’s daughter. And she’s proud of her accomplishments in music and philanthropy 

Embarrassed by — Nothing, she’s great

Driving Style — Oh, aggressive. She’s an offensive driver. Cusses. 

Strong Points —  she doesn’t quit, she’s the walk through hell and keep going type of person

Temperament — generally she’s pretty even-tempered. It’s easy to set her off in an instant though if you’re being racist, sexist - any type of shitty person tbh, or being shitty toward her husband or son, but for the most part she’s pretty chill. She deff has crazy bitch energy just under the surface though and you can tell

Attitude — Franny’s not particularly bitchy, but you know, she can be

Weakness — can’t do basic math, very overly self-critical, perfectionist

Fears — Something happening to Wilbur tbh. That’s her greatest fear, losing her son. 

Phobias — Franny does not throw up. She refuses. She will literally feel nauseous and horrible all day to avoid puking. It makes her so anxious, she will nOT. 

Secrets — None really? Like she doesn’t blab her life story to everyone but Cornelius knows everything about her. She has no secrets from her husband. 

Regrets — Not adopting more children when she and Cornelius got married knowing they both wanted a big family; ever meeting up with her biological father 

Feels Vulnerable When — She cries in front of people. Franny hates doing it. She’d rather die tbh

Pet Peeves — when people are rude to wait staff 

Conflicts — She sometimes feels a surge of resentment for her husband during her depressive episodes because she kind of feels like she’s pulled most of the weight in their marriage from Day 1 as far as running the home, and feels like although he purported to also want a big family he never even offered to take HIS turn pulling back from work so they could adopt a second child when it became clear it wasn’t gonna happen for them biologically, but then Franny hates herself for that because Cornelius is the kindest, most loving, most wonderful husband and father and she feels so privileged to call herself his wife and...yeah they just need to have a long talk about it tbh

Motivation — to be the best at everything she does; to force space for herself where she and people like her have previously been excluded, to be so great that you can’t ignore her

Short Term Goals and Hopes — have a baby, but she’s 40 now and knows its not gonna happen 

Long Term Goals and Hopes —she’s...kinda done everything she ever set out to do other than have lots of children

Sexuality — Bisexual, leans toward women, but had more experience with men because compulsory heterosexuality in the US in the 90s and early 2000s, and genuinely fell in love with a man are has been with just him for twenty years now

Exercise Routine  — Doesn’t spend much time on cardio because she gets enough cardio walking around town and Pride U. Mainly works on her core, legs, and strength training so if a man tries to grab her she can kick his ass

Day or Night Person — Would be nocturnal if she could be

Introvert or Extrovert — Extrovert

Optimist or Pessimist — She’s naturally pretty cynical but she’s worked for like twenty-five years to have a more optimistic outlook on things. It’s 50/50 now I’d say 

Likes and Styles:

Music — there isn’t really a genre she doesn’t like - like her initial fame was in jazz, but she has an equal affection for jazz and bluegrass/classic country/folk music. She also is in an indie band, Seoul Hanoi’d. And like rap music - usually old school Atlanta rap, but she likes Kendrick Lamar and some other current rappers.

Books — She likes to read or listen to audiobooks about pretty much any subject except music and musicians.

Foods — Cambodian food!!

Drinks — She likes sweet tea, aaaand her alcohol of choice is Anything

Animals — Possums :3 She wants a pet possum so bad, she follows pet possums on instagram and cries at their cute posts

Sports — She played tennis in high school, that’s the extent of her sports knowledge

Social Issues — all of them. Climate change, racial justice, intersectional feminism, VACCINATE ALL THE CHILDREN UNLESS THEY MEDICALLY CANNOT BE, de-mining, Green New Deal, punch Nazis, hey maybe don’t put children in cages, Myanmar can you please not do that genocide you’re doing that would be swell, poor people deserve access to healthcare and education, housing-first approach to homelessness, the good stuff 

Favorite Saying — “Hoes mad”, usually said dismissively when she receives a death threat after a political tweet, or after a racist one for just being an Asian woman in the public eye

Clothing — Franny prefers skirts, dresses, and jumpsuits/rompers to shirt + trousers

Jewelry — She never takes off her wedding ring. She’s married af

TV Shows — Schitt’s Creek, Kim’s Convenience, a lot of Canadian TV she really thinks is funny

Movies — She’s a big nerd that loves a good documentary or otherwise educational movie

Greatest Want — More children, including one biological child because her mother always talked about pregnancy and childbirth like it was the most humbling and empowering experience she’d ever had, and Franny wants that. But she’s 40 and knows she won’t have that. 

Greatest Need — a baby lmao

Where and How Does Your Character Live Now:

Home — In a big-ass house in the wealthiest part of town, maybe even the biggest house 

Household furnishings — Not overdecorated. A lot of people live there, but Franny’s very much the lady of the house, and even more so than her husband is the head of the household. She’s not a dictator, like her mother-in-law and other relatives have added their touches to the home decor, but it is very much Franny’s Home with notes of the others. She’s very particular about her kitchen, but is very flexible with the rest of the common spaces. 

Most Cherished Possession — Family photographs of her mother and her family before the Khmer Rouge. Franny bears a striking resemblance to her Aunt Kesor, who was the older sister her mother had idolized, but who died during the Khmer Rouge years. Franny only knows of the resemblance from photographs.

Neighborhood — The rich people part of town 

Town or City Name — Swynlake, England

Details of Town or City — lol

Married Before — Cornelius is her first and only husband and unless he cheats on her she’s never ever leaving that man

Significant Other Before — nobody important 

Children — Wilbur Robinson, wants/wanted more

Relationship with Family — Close! Both to her in-laws, biological maternal family, and stepfamily

Car — 2020 Nissan Qashqai

Career — Singer, song-writer, musician, composer, musical actress, actress, university music professor

Dream Career — Musical actress

Dream Life — Married to Cornelius, with lots of kids, living her best life

Love Life — Happily married to the love of her life, her sunshine, the jelly to her fish, Cornelius Robinson

Talents or Skills — music, cooking, acting

Intelligence Level — High? Like she can’t do basic math but everything else. She’s a musical genius, is good with languages, and is pretty perceptive

Finances — Loaded

Your Character’s Life Before Your Story:

Past Careers — restaurant worker, event staff

Past Lovers — nobody worth mentioning 

Biggest Mistakes — “I don’t make mistakes”

Biggest Achievements — Grammys, induction into the Songwriters Hall of Fame, being the first Cambodian person to win a Grammy, International Bluegrass Music Association awards, ASCAP awards, and being awarded the national medal of the arts by Barack Obama in 2015 

#&&...hc #meet the robinsons

[requiescatinpacerp]

“It takes more courage to care for those trying to fight you, than trying to fight those who care for you.” 

Name: Molly Weasley

Age: 27

Affiliation: Order

Blood Status: Pureblood

Career: Stay at home mom (At home healer)

Wand:9 ¼ inch, English Oak wood, Unicorn hair, Unyielding

Cooking. Bronze. Windy afternoons. Sunrises. Gardens. Messy buns. Big Blankets. Children. Potions. Messy House. Love. Crimson. Sweaters. No make up. Cauldrons. Spells. Ginger hair. Cleaning. Smell after the rain. Family. Wool Socks. Books. Food. Marriage. Cups of tea. Knitting. Woods. Hold. First snow of Winter. Cuddles. Laughter. New recipes. 

Molly Prewett was born the only child of Thaddeus and Annie Prewett. The next few years were pure perfection as the little family created their lives. Molly was one of the calmest children that anyone had seen, making her parents life a little easier. It even seemed like as she started to move around more and was able to slowly do things on her own, she was helping around the home. Her toys always cleaned up, she would always clean herself up after eating, and other things that her parents thought odd at first, but love because it made their daughter unique. Like most moments of happiness, it wasn’t meant to last long and soon tragedy struck the family. Molly’s mom grew sick and it wasn’t long after the initial diagnosis that she died, leaving Molly and her father alone.

It had been around the time that Molly was four that her mother died, and eventually she had to cope with the idea of him marrying someone else. It honestly wasn’t too long after the loss of her mother that her father had met Juliana, or Julie for short. Now, every child knew the stories about evil step mothers and everything that came with them, so it was natural for Molly to be afraid of this woman coming into their family. Why would she want someone evil trying to live with her and her father? Luckily for Molly, she didn’t have to worry about those horrible fairytales becoming part of her life, for her step mother was actually quite nice. She was careful not to make Molly feel like she was replacing her mother or trying to take away her father. Eventually the young girl warmed up to her step mother, and even was excited about the idea of having a sibling when the couple announced they were pregnant.

The birth of her twin half-brothers was Molly’s chance to really show how helpful she can be. Even with them being born when she was six, she helped in every way possible. She cared for them if they were sick, helped rock them back to sleep, fed them, and did so much more. Molly never minded helping out, mostly because she had known that most of the attention was going to be on the babies anyway, so why no ? Eventually her time as the helper around the house had to be cut down when she received her letter from Hogwarts. Now it was time for her to go to school and learn to be her own person.

Hogwarts was a new experience for Molly mostly because she didn’t have five year olds running around her all day. As well, the only person she had to focus on was herself. Molly had never just worried about herself, which is why she had taken to caring for the friends she made. Being in Gryffindor, she was used to working with people who would insist that they were fine, but would eventually cave to letting her help them. She even gained herself a reputation of being like a mother to those who were in the house. Always caring for people and bring some baked goods whenever she came back from breaks. Molly would describe herself as average when it came to classes, mostly because she did everything like everyone else. Potions happened to be her best class, for everything just seemed to click for her in that class. Eventually she was offered by Madame Pompfrey to help work in the infirmary, giving Molly the chance to learn more about healing potions and spells.

The reputation Molly had built for herself went beyond just being healing and helpful, but everyone knew her as the person you could turn to. She would always be there for others, giving even when she had nothing left. That reputation had even reached a fellow Gryffindor who found himself intrigued by the idea of Molly. Arthur Weasley was his name and Molly found herself wanting to spend more time with him the longer she knew him. He was kind of shy and dorky when she first met him, but she couldn’t help but love it a little. There was just something quirky about him that she enjoyed. Above everything else, Arthur was one of her first friends to give as much as she did. Whenever Molly was sick or needed help, Arthur was there. He always had that big grin on his face and seemed to do whatever he could in order to get Molly to feel better. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone that they two fell in love and spent the end of their time at Hogwarts together.

Graduation snuck up on Molly a bit, but she was more than ready when it finally arrived. It was time for her to go out and do something with her life, even starting her new job at St. Mungos. The young witch was excited to work more with healing and helping people, plus living her life with Arthur. The two had married not long after they finished school, and found a house that was a bit outside of London. Their life together was quiet at first, Arthur working at the ministry and Molly at Mungos, but that soon changed with the birth of their son Bill. Couple years after their first son arrived, Charlie was born. After him was Percy, and then earlier in 2018, the couple welcomed their twin boys Fred and George. With so many children in the house, and the talks of more to come, Molly decided to quit her job at Mungos and do the thing she loved more than anything, being a mother. Her children were her world and she wanted to care for them as much as she could.

Along with their growing family, there was a war growing as well. Molly found herself worrying more and more about what it might mean for her family, but of course she didn’t share it with anyone. Of course Arthur could tell and assured her everything would be fine, but that only helped a little for the worrying mother. Eventually Arthur had been recruited to join the Order, planning to help their friends end this war. Molly on the other hand only semi joined the order, some would say joined by association. For the most part, she offered her expertise in healing and such in order to make sure her fellow order members had the proper care they needed.

ARTHUR WEASLEY – Arthur is not only Molly’s husband, and father to her children, but he’s her best friend. She knows she can always turn to him in any time of need and he’ll do everything he can to help her. There aren’t enough words in the world for her to tell him how much that means to her, even if she might not always show it.

ALICE LONGBOTTOM – While part of Molly is okay with not being part of the order, there is that little piece of her that would love to help fight. Alice always makes sure that Molly is included in everything and can her chance to help like everyone else.

BELLATRIX LESTRANGE – Molly is not someone to hate people, barely even dislike people, but there is something about Bellatrix that rubs her the wrong way. However, in true Molly fashion, she just smiles and talks nicely with the other woman. 

Molly Weasley is an TAKEN character with a FC of Karen Gillian.

#marauders rp #marauders roleplay #hp rp #harry potter rp #hp rpg #molly weasley #karen gillian #taken #takenf #o #order #mollyweasleybio

[runenc03]

HH - Kaycee’s third year (part 4)

Writing date: November 2019

Genre: fluff fluff fluff. They’re starting to grow into their feelings though :)

Warnings: Nope, no warnings. I actually really like this chapter!

Word count: 7.9k

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

Summer

He felt her before he saw her.

The tight pressure of her arms wrapped around his middle, the curve of her lips caused by her face being buried in the crook of his neck, her shriek of happiness filling his ears.

His smile doubled in brightness.

And to think he actually didn't want to come to the Quidditch World Cup. He had never been really into Quidditch, despite going to many Hogwarts matches to cheer for Harry. It just wasn't as exciting for him as for some other people. Ron had been nagging him about coming together with the Weasley's, trying to pursuade him by saying that Molly missed him, or that it'd be good for him to get used to magic again a little before the school year started. Nothing had helped though, and Ron had given up, when Sean had realised something very important:

Hermione had told him she would be staying with the Weasley's around that time.

Which meant Kaycee would be coming as well.

"Nice to see you too, Kayc."

The short girl lifted her head, positively beaming at him, eyes shining. Oh, how he'd missed that face.

"I missed you so much."

It was hard for Sean to put to words how strongly he felt it within him when she said those 5 words, so he concentrated on absorbing as much of her scent and warmth as possible for now.

"You have no idea how much I missed you, Kayc."

He wanted to stay there forever, basking in the sunlight of the field they were on, the excited buzz of people surrounding them, Kaycee's hair slightly tickling his jaw because she had tucked her head under his chin. Not that he minded.

What did bother him, however, was Ron's yelling seemingly becoming louder with every passing second. He tried to ignore it at first, but reacting just became inevitable after a while.

"Hey, Kaycee, I just found a really great spot to see the next match! If you come quickly, it won't be crowded yet! Oh, hi Sean."

Sean stayed silent, not really knowing what to say to such an utterly insensible act, but Kaycee lifted her head off of his chest.

He saw her uneasy smile towards Ron, but it didn't compensate for the empty spot on his chest completely.

"Yes, alright, I'll come with you Ron."

And that's when she seperated herself completely from his body. He couldn't really blame her, it was only logical that she wanted a good spot to look at the Quidditch game. It had been proven multiple times already that her height, as adorable as he thought that trait of her's was, was often challenging when it came to watching Quidditch matches. He couldn't help but long for a moment to themselves again though, without anyone interrupting.

But his semi-sulking session was cut short soon by Kaycee, who was shaking her curls, trying to get them to behave, even though he found her curls beautiful no matter what. When she was satisfied with her hair, Sean had just enough time to catch himself staring before she turned around again, looking expectantly at him with a broad smile, her eyes slightly squinted because of the sunlight.

"Shamu, are you coming, or are you going to stand there all day?"

He smiled back at her, and started to jog to catch up on her.

And when he walked next to her and the back of her hand brushed against his by accident, he sighed in contentment.

He was ready for a new year full of magic.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------- Autumn

"HARRY POTTER"

Sean's hand had immediately enclosed itself around Kaycee's wrist when Dumbledore had repeated himself, louder than the first time he had said Harry's name. They had all been in the Great Hall to finally find out who the contestants of the triwizarding tournament would be, and no one had expected Harry's name to come out of the renowned goblet.

Instantly, the Great Hall had been filled with urgent whispers from students, guests and teachers. The atmosphere had managed to get dark within seconds, and Sean hadn't known if it was just him who had felt so cold inside, or if there had actually been some sort of magic that had made the temperature of the Hall decrease rapidly.

Next to him, Hermione had turned her back to him, facing Harry and ushering him forward.

He had seen the hesitation in his friend's steps, the way his hands had clung to the side of his pants, a habit Sean knew he had created out of fear of not having a good grip on his wand when he was sweating in stressful situations.

Suddenly, someone had shouted, effectively overpowering all the other voices:

"He's a cheat!"

The shout had immediately been followed by someone else yelling that Harry wasn't even seventeen yet, and Sean had only been able to watch his friend's shoulders slump with every audible comment.

Then, when Harry had finally reached the other contentants, he had turned around, and his eyes had locked with Sean's.

The Ravenclaw had seen a lot of emotions swirling inside Harry's eyes, but the deep, raw fear was definitely the superior emotion swirling inside his orbs. Harry had been completely, utterly engulfed in fright, and Sean had felt the goosebumps on his arms erupt.

It was in that moment that he had vowed to himself that he would do everything in his power to help Harry.

And up until now, he had. Harry's name had come out of the goblet exactly thirteen days ago, and Sean had kept his promise. He had spent more time in the library than in the last 3 years together, searching for the right books to help his friend, reading them, taking notes and putting the information he collected into complicated schemes until even he couldn't see the logic in after a while.

To say that he was exhausted was an understatement.

"Mr Lew, I was kind enough the last time. Please give me the books you're reading now and leave the library. Your sudden obsession shouldn't interfere with my night rest."

Sean's back promptly straightened upon hearing the librarian's voice, and he felt his neck muscles protest at the sudden turn his head made. That was going to hurt tomorrow.

"My apologies, Madam Pince, I'll make sure-"

"I'll make sure he'll get to his common room safely, Madam Pince. Come on Sean, hurry up. It's too late to read something other than fictional stories."

This time around, both his and Madam Pince's head turned around abruptly. In the doorway of the library, a few feet away from him, stood Kaycee. She was wearing light pink pyjamas with little white dots on it and her hair was down, falling in dark ringlets past her shoulders.

"Shamu, are you coming, or are you going to sit there all night? You know Madam Pince wants to go to sleep, and I know that you could use some of that as well."

Kaycee's first sentence promptly brought him back to the last time she had said something along those lines, back to better times, when the only thing on his mind had been Ron interrupting their little moments. He hadn't even thought about Ron in the last month.

He stood up, quickly collecting his books and giving them to the librarian. It was only when he gave her the books that he was close enough to see the bags under her eyes, and a wave of guilt washed over him, knowing he had been the one who had been keeping her up for the past 6 weeks.

Thankfully, Madam Pince seemed to realise he felt guilty, for she gave him a small smile and a barely noticeable nod.

"Good night, Mr Lew."

He smiled back at the older lady and walked towards Kaycee, feeling his smile change from slightly awkward to genuinely happy. They began walking out of the library together.

"Let's get you to your common room, Lew."

Sean quirked his eyebrow.

"That doesn't make any sense Kayc, my common room is in a tower, yours is next to the kitchens. We're going to your common room first, and I promise you that I'm going straight to my common room as soon as you're safely inside yours."

But Kaycee was already shaking her head, her eyes closed and her eyebrows high, trying to make a strict face to show how much she disagreed with his plan.

"We're definitely not going to do that. I am going to bring you to your common room, and then I'm going to return. You have been doing research for way too long, and I do understand that you want to help Harry because I do too! I care about him a lot and I want to help him as well. The difference is that I understand that I'm not going to be able to fully support him if I'm dead inside, like you've been for the last 2 weeks, no offence. Also-"

Her words didn't seem to register anymore, his brain was way too tired for that, he could only focus on one thing at a time. For now, that thing was to get her safely inside her common room, no matter how hard she protested. Instead of listening to her, he automatically seemed to focus on the expressions she made, how her curls bounced as she moved her head, how her hands made such graceful gestures, trying to put more power to her words.

"And so it's more important for you to get more sleep tonight than I do than the other way around. I mean, I-Oh."

Kaycee had promptly stopped rambling when she finally took the time to look at her surroundings, and discovered that they had, in fact, walked to her common room, and not his. She faced him now, eyebrows furrowed, about to open her mouth again when Sean stopped her.

"Shh Kayc. It's okay. I'll promise to go to bed now, you've convinced me that it's important to get rest. Go inside now, I'm not the only one it's late for."

She was smiling again, and he noticed only now that the right side of her mouth went up a little more than the left side. She studied his face, her smile dropping a tiny bit when her eyes rested on the bags under his, but going up again when her eyes locked on his. She nodded.

"Alright, good night, Shamu."

She turned around now, took a few steps away from him, and Sean already felt colder than when she was by his side. She had already tapped the common room door in the rhythm of Helga Hufflepuff, and it had already given her access, when the words tumbled out of his mouth:

"Do you want to go to the Yule Ball with me?"

She turned around, surprise sketched on her face. It was only then that he realised what he had said, and he was about to open his mouth again to apologise, when she beat him to it.

Her surprised expression morphed into a warm smile again, her eyes shining brighter than they had all night.

"I would love to."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------- Winter

"Oh dear, Kaycee, you look breathtaking!"

Kaycee, turned around, looking at her sister with doubts swirling around in her mind. Was she as beautiful as her sister claimed?

"I-I don't know Mione. As beautiful as this dress is, I just feel like it's somehow too pretty for me, and tonight I need to...well, I need to be perfect."

At Kaycee's words, Hermione walked towards her sister, standing beside her and gazing in the mirror the Room of Requirement had been so kind to let appear for them.

"Kaycee Caitlin Granger. You see, there's this really important thing you're completely overlooking. You are stunning just as you are, every single day. You see this dress? It doesn't make you any more beautiful than usual, it just emphasizes what's there every day: your light, Kaycee. You are glowing, shining, lighting up a room when you walk inside. It's been this way since you were born. I still question why mum and dad never favoured you over the rest of us. I've never been jealous of it though. I am proud, Kaycee Granger, to be your sister. You are such an amazing human being and I'm proud of the extraordinary young woman you have become. I love you so much."

Kaycee could only smile, her eyes closed to prevent them from watering, searching with her hand for her sister's, and when she found it, giving it a little squeeze.

Hermione understood.

"Let's go, Kaycee."

And then the sentence that made the butterflies in Kaycee's stomach come to life:

"I bet Sean's already waiting for you."

Kaycee opened her eyes and looked straight forward, right into the mirror.

Her smile stayed.

In fact, it only brightened even more when she arrived at the top of the staircase, because Sean was standing at the base of it.

Sean. Shamu. The one she used to see as a wonderful friend. The guy, she started to realise during her second year, who made her skin tingle every time he took her hand, or gave her a hug. The person who, since the Quidditch world cup a few weeks ago, was the subject of all her dreams, dreams in which he held her hand in another way than what he did now, dreams in which he called her 'love', and 'darling', dreams in which they cuddled and once even kissed.

She could no longer deny what that all meant.

Still, she was content being just his friend. It meant she didn't have to confront him about her feelings, while still being able to be close to him. And with the way he looked at her while she came down the grand staircase, she definitely wasn't complaining anytime soon.

"You, Kaycee Granger, look absolutely breathtaking."

He said it with a breathy voice too, as if what he was saying was literally true. His eyes had a twinkle in them, his dimples ever-present.

"Thank you. You too, Sean."

And while she had been talking about him as a person, she realised now that the clothes he was wearing definitely did some good as well. His dress shirt was white, and the sleeves were rolled up, showing the veins on his arm. It was neatly tucked into his black pants, and his shoes shone, reflecting the candlelights that floated through the corridor.

"Ready to show them your dance moves?"

She laughed at that, both of them knowing that they would only get to slow dance. Not that she was complaining. She nodded, and together, they walked into the magestically decorated Great Hall.

That night was turning into the best of her life so far. She swirled around gracefully on the dance floor, without a care in the world, the music flowing through her veins, Sean's hand on the small of her back, her hands on his chest. She wished she could freeze the time and live in this moment forever, for this moment was absolutely, utterly and unquestionably perfect.

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

Why tonight?

It was a question she'd asked herself multiple times in the last half an hour.

Only 2 hours ago, she and Sean had stood at the base of the staircase, gazing at eachother. Everything after that -up until half an hour ago of course- had been an absolute dream. Kaycee had never ever wanted the evening to end, as cliché as that sounded.

Now, however, she wanted to go back in time, and not necessarily to do one more magical dance with Sean. While she had discovered that that was her favourite thing in the world, it was -looking back at it- way more important to make sure Ron would keep his mouth shut.

"Shh...Mione, it's all going to be okay, I promise you."

Hermione's crying didn't decrease one bit, however, and Kaycee was afraid it wouldn't stop anytime soon.

"B-but, you guys...you don't- he said that I was a-a traitor for going to the ball with the enemy."

Kaycee was just about to make sure her sister knew she wasn't a traitor, when she saw Sean stand up abruptly. He had been sitting on the other side of Hermione, and together they had been trying to cheer her up, but apparently, he suddenly had other plans.

"Hey hey hey, where are you going?"

Kaycee couldn't really keep the annoyance out of her voice. Sean had always been such a selfless, loyal person to his friends, and she didn't understand this sudden strange behaviour.

Sean turned around, and somehow his worried expression about Hermione's wellbeing had morphed into an angry scowl.

"To Ron. He doesn't deserve to have fun now. I'm going to tell him exactly what has been on my mind for a freaking year now. I've dealt with enough of his crap!"

"Sean w-"

But Sean had already stomped away, unable to hear Kaycee anymore.

She felt torn in that moment, standing beside her sniffling and clearly heartbroken sister, but also feeling the need to make sure Sean didn't do anything stupid.

"What's going on here- Oh crap Hermione, what happened? Are you hurt?"

The question had come out of Harry's mouth as an automatism, so aware of his friends constantly getting hurt on their adventures, that he hadn't thought of the other, non-physical kind of hurt. In this case, the double meaning made Hermione burst in tears all over again.

"It's Ron, Harry. He said some really freaking stupid things to Hermione and now he hurt her, as you can see, and Sean just ran away to go after Ron and he was so livid and while I know he won't do anything physical, I don't think he'll be that gentle either and I actually want to go after him but then Hermione's all alone and, and-"

"Kaycee, calm down. Take a breath."

Harry had laid his hands on both of her shoulders, and it immediately calmed her. She closed her eyes, took a moment for herself, and nodded.

"Kayc, you can go to Sean, I'll manage, promise. Ron's just an idiot and I need to get over him, that doesn't mean you should feel torn between staying here or going to Sean. Go, I love you."

"I'll stay with Hermione, Kayc. Hey, Mione, you like me just as much as your sister, right?"

There was something in Harry's tone that showed he obviously knew he could never surpass Kaycee, which is why it was so funny when he said it. And it paid off. Hermione slightly snorted, and while her smile was small, it was at least a genuine one.

It was all Kaycee needed to lessen her guilt.

"Okay, thanks. I'm just going to make sure they don't do anything stupid with each other. I love you both."

She heard the echoes of their 'I love you too''s, but she was already too focused to pay attention to them. Her steps were light but her pace fast, and she wished her hair was up in a bun instead of gracefully styled to lay on her back.

It wasn't long before she heard a voice, and for some reason she immediately recognised its owner.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

She had just turned around a corner when she saw them: Sean had asked Ron the question while dragging him forward with the lace around his neck into a deserted classroom.

As soon as they were in, Kaycee came from behind the corner and sneaked to the classroom, where she stopped slightly right to the door, so she could hear their voices more clearly.

"W-what do you mean, Sean?"

"Are you serious? Don't act so surprised you hypocrite! I know Kaycee isn't my girlfriend yet, but Merlin Ron, the way you act is not okay either! Going out of your way to give her weird, misplaced compliments and then acting so utterly tactless to Hermione! Do you really think that's the right way to win Kaycee's heart? Because I'm telling you now that it's not."

On the other side of the wall, Kaycee's eyes had widened, because she hadn't missed a word of Sean's outburst.

She hadn't missed the 'yet' after 'kaycee's not my girlfriend' either.

Nothing had ever made her head spin as much as this one little word had, not even Mcgonagall's 'you're a witch, just like your sister' when she delivered Kaycee's first Hogwarts letter.

She was forced to focus once again though, because Ron had apparently found his voice back.

"Wait- you, you think I try to make Kaycee interested in me in that way? Why would you th-"

"WHY?! MAYBE BECAUSE YOU INTERRUPT EVERY SINGLE MOMENT ME AND KAYCEE HAVE TOGETHER!"

Kaycee heard footsteps after that. Seeing as she was too afraid to look through the door opening, she could only guess that Ron had been literally taken aback by Sean.

Kaycee promised to herself that if she heard wands being drawn, she would interfere. For now though, she wanted to hear a little more of the conversation.

"I- I, Sean I really didn't mean to do that, I promise you. I've never felt things for Kaycee like that, I love her, but I love her like a sister. Truly, I never wanted to steal her from you."

Kaycee frowned at that. She wasn't anyone's property, not even Sean's. She thought it was weird of Ron to put it like that, but she couldn't really blame him. If she was standing there in Ron's shoes, she too would probably try to please Sean as much as she could.

"It's not about stealing Ron, she's her own person, not my property. It's just that I don't understand why you are all over Kaycee, but insult Hermione. Was it really neccesary to call her a traitor? I just don't understand your behaviour. It's time to give something up, you can choose whether that's your immature behaviour or our friendship. Girls have feelings too, and it's not fair to play with those. They earn your respect, especially someone as amazing as Hermione."

Kaycee smiled, feeling a pleasant kind of warmth spread through her chest at Sean's words.

"Okay, I'll explain everything to you, I promise. But then you have to promise not to tell anyone, especially not Hermione, alright?"

Sean stayed silent, so Kaycee assumed he had nodded his head. Truth be told, Kaycee was also curious where this was going. When she had come here, she really hadn't expected Sean to drag her into the fight.

"Last year, I came to the conclusion that I somehow really, really like Hermione. I tried to get her out of my head at first, I mean she would never like me back in that way, but it didn't work, and at some point I really had to admit to myself that I fancy her. But she's always so mad at me, and I mean, I can't blame her, and I always try to be kind to her, but it just doesn't work, I always snap and I regret it so so much, every single time. In the beginning, I tried to make it up to her by starting a conversation, but you know better than anyone else that Hermione is really stubborn, and that she'll completely ignore you if she's mad at you. So I did the thing that seemed second best: being kind to Kaycee. I figured that if I was nice to her sister, she would see that I could be a nice bloke, you know? I never, ever intentionally flirted with Kaycee, I promise you that. And the interrupting of your moments with Kaycee...well, this is really selfish, but I just wanted to spend more time with her, because the more I did that, the bigger the chance Hermione would notice me. Or so I thought. Nothing has happened and she'll always see me as this annoying boy who apparenly looks like he's flirting with her sister. Oh Merlin I messed up. I'm so sorry Sean."

Kaycee didn't think she had ever had such an existential crisis. First, her annoyance at Ron for being so tactless, then her guilt for leaving Hermione, her utter disbelieve at hearing Sean say she wasn't his girlfriend yet, whatever that meant, immediately followed by Ron's mind blowing theory about being extra kind to her to please her sister.

It was all way too much, but not enough. She wanted to hear more, understand more details, figure things out to wrap her head around all this new information.

The 'too much'-part of her brain slightly overpowered the curious part though, because suddenly her legs gave out and she landed on the floor with a thud. She shut her eyes closed, praying they didn't hear anything, and she sighed of relief when Sean talked to Ron again, with a much calmer voice now.

"I-Ron. You idiot. Do you have any idea how much better it would've been for both of us if you would've been honest about this all along? I could've helped you, you know, instead of spending my time being jealous and annoyed at you. Look, tomorrow, we'll figure out a way for you to make it up to Hermione. For now, I think it's better to just go to bed, it's been a long day. Alright?"

What followed was the sound of an intricate rhythm of claps, and Kaycee couldn't help but smile, knowing it was a part of one of Sean's choreographies that only required hands, kind of like a difficult handshake. Sean had taught it to Ron about a year ago, in one of their good moments, to show Ron that dancing wasn't only for girls, Ron had actually thought it was cool and it had been their thing ever since.

Then, she heard footsteps, and she started to panic, knowing they were going to come out of the classroom soon. Quickly, she got up and hid herself in the broom closet a few feet away from the door. She had barely closed the closet doors when Sean came out of the door opening, followed by Ron. She saw Sean turning around to his friend.

"Okay, I need to go up these stairs to get to my common room. I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"

"Wow-wait, not so fast, Sean. Care to explain why you said that Kaycee isn't you girlfriend yet?"

Ron was facing Sean, obviously, so Kaycee couldn't see his face from her hiding place, but she could clearly hear the grin in his voice. Her main focus, however, was Sean's face, and how his expression turned from a happy but exhausted one to a surprised one, as if he had forgotten all about that sentence.

Kaycee knew she definitely wouldn't forget it any time soon, if ever at all.

Sean got a hold of himself again, the right corner of his mouth slightly going up.

"You know I can't tell you a lot about the time turner incident last year, but let's just say it made me realise some things, most of all how madly in love I am with Kaycee.."

Ron actually snorted this time, Kaycee could hear it. It distracted her from all the other things she had just heard, and she was glad for that distraction, she wasn't sure she would be able to stay silent if she permitted all those feelings and thoughts to completely get through.

"I'd say, welcome to the Seaycee shippers, Sean! Everyone has been a shipper for years, and that includes me, even if it may have looked like I wasn't. Now go and dream about your girl! Goodnight, Sean."

Sean's smile had grown to be a completely glowing expression on his face, and he nodded at Ron, walking up the first few steps of the staircase.

"Goodnight, Ron. Remember, Hermione might not be as unreachable as you think she is. There's always hope."

And while Sean walked up the stairs and Ron turned around a corner, Kaycee still sat in the broom closet, arms wrapped around her knees, silent tears of happiness streaming down her cheeks, wondering how in the world she got so lucky.

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

"Why are we always talking about my love life? You have a crush on someone as well!"

Kaycee's tone was hushed while walking through the corridor with Luna, careful so no-one would actually hear what they were talking about.

It was the 24th of February, a few weeks after the Yule Ball, and Kaycee had had a bit more time to think about everything she felt towards Sean. It was clear to her now that her feelings went much deeper than just a crush, and she had realised that it was also the reason she hadn't jumped out of the closet a few weeks ago, but had instead cried her eyes out, even though she had been immensely happy.

"Because your crush actually likes you back, Kaycee Granger. I don't even know if Neville smiles at me because wrackspurts got to him or because he thinks I'm nice."

"Luna, I'm sure he thinks you're nice! He got all flustered when you congratulated him on the Gillyweed idea today!"

And it was true. Kaycee and Luna had watched the second task of the Triwizard tournament together. The whole task had ended about half an hour ago, and she and Luna had talked to Harry for a few minutes afterwards. After he told them Neville had given him the idea to use gillyweed, Luna couldn't help herself and congratulated Neville when they saw him right before walking back inside, where they planned on visiting the house elves in the kitchen. Luna had asked Kaycee to come with her -she had said that she wanted to try to interview a few of them for an article in the Quibbler- and Kaycee definitely wouldn't let go of the opportunity to get hot chocolate.

"Maybe...I don't know. The blushing could be the nargles' fault as well. I mean, I hope he blushed because of me, but I don't really want to get my hopes up either. You see, a broken heart tends to attract umgubular slashkilters, and you definitely don't want those anywhere near y-"

"You're such a coward, Longbottom!"

The origin of the sound could not be mistaken: this was Draco Malfoy talking, and one look on Luna's face told her he would regret ever speaking to Neville like that.

"L-leave me alone.."

They were almost at the end of the corridor now, the sound getting louder and louder. Kaycee could hear the sadness in Neville's voice, and it truly broke her heart. He was her friend as well, and he didn't deserve to be treated like that.

Malfoy's snicker echoed through the corridor, hard and cold. It made the hair on Kaycee's arm stand up straight.

"Why would we? You can't do anything, just like you parents, you ugly-"

"Actually, Draco Malfoy, Neville can do a lot of things. Did you know he was the one who advised Harry to use gillyweed? I'm sure he also knows about a plant that could turn you into a frog, or a stone or something, right Neville?"

All eyes were on Luna, Draco's big from surprise, Neville's with an admiring gaze in them. Kaycee wished she had a camera to take a picture of this, it would be the perfect picture to laugh at, because Malfoy's expression, and the best chance she would ever get at convincing Luna that Neville actually did like her.

"Uhh- yes, o-of course. Tribulus terrestris would definitely do the job."

Kaycee smiled at that. Luna defending him had clearly given him some much-needed confidence, although she definitely noticed how red his cheeks became when he named the herb, or how his eyes flickered towards Luna just a few times more than usual. Next to her, Luna cleared her throat impatiently.

"You heard him, didn't you, Draco? I think it's time for you to leave Neville alone, as he so kindly asked you. We both know I'm great friends with the house elves in the kitchen, and, I mean, I don't think you'd be so happy with some tribulus terrestris in your pumpkin juice tonight, or should I say sprite?"

Kaycee was very surprised to see that Draco actually paled even farther when Luna mentioned Sprite. She didn't know why, but Draco's face become funnier with every passing minute. The slytherin was silent for a moment, his mouth slightly opened, as if he wanted to say something, but didn't find the right words. After a while, he finally spluttered something:

"I-I'll go now. Bye, L-Luna, Neville, Kaycee."

And with that, he turned around and wobbled away, awkwardly trying to keep his pace between walking and running.

Kaycee couldn't help but laugh her head off, and Neville and Luna soon joined in.

"W-what just happened? I swear I've never seen Draco so..so..unconfident!"

They had calmed down a little bit by now, and Luna answered with her signature dreamy smile on her face again.

"Draco, he drinks Sprite. He charms his pumpkin juice to be sprite, and he's really embarrassed about it because it's a muggle drink, wizards usually don't even know it exists, and, well, you know how he gets with his blood purity and all."

"That's...genius!!"

It was Neville who had praised Luna, finally recovering from his fright and surprise, and Luna's ever-pale skin actually got some colour around her cheekbones. Kaycee thought it was adorable.

"Thank you, Neville. That's a very kind thing of you to say. However, Kaycee and I really must go now, we promised the house elves in the kitchen that we would pay them a visit. But you can join us if you want!"

"I would love to, but I'm still not doing well in charms and in astronomy, and Gran wants me to study more.."

Kaycee immediately felt sympathetic. Neville was always so kind and he worked so hard, but still his grandma couldn't see any of these admirable qualities. She wished she could help him, but she knew it was his gran who should realise things, not Neville who should study more.

"You know what? Let's study together in the library tomorrow! Madam Pince has always had a soft spot for Ravenclaw's, so she probably won't mind me tutoring you."

Neville smiled at that, clearly happy at the prospect of being able to spend more time with Luna. Kaycee desperately tried to keep her fangirling to a minimum.

"Y-yes, that'd be nice Luna. Thank you for defending me, by the way. I uh..appreciate it. A lot. So...thank you"

If Luna noticed his awkward repetition of words, she didn't show it. Instead she smiled -Kaycee wondered if she had even stopped smiling at all these last few minutes- and nodded at Neville.

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow then. Bye Neville! Don't forget to get some tribulus terrestris, in case Malfoy ever bothers you again."

Kaycee quickly said goodbye to a suspiciously spluttering Neville, and followed Luna to the kitchens, feeling giddy about witnessing such a cute moment between those two.

It wasn't until weeks after that she finally understood why Neville had acted so weirdly every time Luna had mentioned the tribulus terrestris. She and Hermione had taken their turn in tutoring Neville in the library, when the topic somehow came up again. After much nagging of both of the sisters -Kaycee wanted to know why he always got so flustered while talking about it and Hermione just wanted to learn something new- he finally gave in: a herb that made someone turn into a frog didn't exist, let alone one that turned a human into stone. The tribulus terrestris did exist, however. It is a herb that increases a woman's fertility, and for some -in Neville's opinion very embarrassing- reason, it was the first thing that came to his mind while looking at Luna in that situation.

For Hermione, it was an interesting new thing she learned. For Kaycee, it was proof Luna definitely wouldn't have to worry about the umgubular slashkilters anytime soon. 

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

Spring

"How was it? Did he make a move? Did you make a move? Tell me all the details!"

It was an early evening, the last strays of sunshine warming up Kaycee's and Hermione's skin. Kaycee had just come back from a hogsmeade afternoon with Sean. He had asked Kaycee, Hermione, Ron and Harry who would go to hogsmeade, proposing they went together, but in the end, only Kaycee could go with him.

Or at least, that's what everyone wanted him to believe. Harry had been smart enough to understand the look on Hermione's face, and told Sean him and Ron had to practice for their charms exam. Hermione had claimed she would rather read something in the library than go outside. Sean thought she seemed a bit suspicious, but he had smiles nonetheless, and afterwards, Hermione had claimed giggling that he probably didn't mind spending alone time with 'his girl'

And now, with Sean safely out of earshot, Hermione apparently couldn't wait another second to hear everything about their afternoon.

Not that Kaycee minded reliving everything once more.

"Well, he- I...it was nice."

And then, when Hermione kept looking at her expectantly:

"He took my hand and held it for, like, half an hour. And we-"

"Wait, wait. How did he hold your hand?"

Kaycee looked at Hermione, confused. Why did it matter? Wasn't she happy for Kaycee? She really hadn't overthought the whole hand holding thing when it had happened. She'd been too busy just enjoying the tingles that had coursed through her in that moment.

"Just tell me, I read something about what holding hands means exactly and I want to see if it actually works like that in real life too."

Kaycee thought that was a bit weird, but at the same time, it was still Hermione who had said it, and that explained a lot, even though it didn't explain why Hermione found it so important.

"Uhm, well, his hand was in front, and he just took mine and intertwined our fingers. There wasn't anything excessively complicated about it, Mione"

But her sister apparently found this little fact incredibly valuable -and judging by the squeal she let out- really cute.

"Okay, now explain why this is so important."

Hermione seemed to realise again that her sister didn't know what was going on in her head, and her expression changed from a squeal into a normal smile. Her eyes kept their twinkle, though.

"Look, it has something to do with the subconscious state of us, humans. In the prehistoric era, humans were nomads, which brought some dangers with it. A man needed to protect his woman, and to make sure he could do that efficiently, he held her hand, with his hand in front of hers. That way he could push her behind him if there was any danger in front of them. He wouldn't be able to push her behind him that easily if her hand was in front of his. Wait, let me show you."

Hermione took her hand, and showed her that it was indeed much easier to pull someone behind you when your hand is in front of the other person's, than if it was the other way around.

"Nowadays, women are, of course, independent, and no longer need to rely on men to protect them, but most men still hold their partner's hand like that, subconciously to protect them. The fact Sean held your hand like that...well, you can draw your own conclusions."

And she did. Or at least, the butterflies in her stomach did before she gave them permission to move. She felt her smile getting broader again, after her confusion about Hermione's question.

"Thanks, Mione. That was a very useful piece of information."

Her sister smiled at her.

"Now go on! There's undoubtedly much more you haven't told me yet!"

"Well...we went to the three broomsticks first, where we had this whole conversation about dancing- oh and we agreed on making a choreo together this summer! And after that, we just walked around, he took my hand, as you know, but we were both too shy to actually say something about it, so it just kind of happened. We went into honeydukes to fill a bag of sweets - he let me pick the candy and there was this one sort I couldn't reach and he took it for me - and then we went outside to eat the bag while sitting on a bench. After that, it was time to go back to the castle. He didn't take my hand again, which was kind of sad, but he did give me a hug before going back to his common room."

By the end of her monologue, Hermione was positively beaming at her, which only stimulated her butterflies even further.

"And what are you going to do now? Does this mean you're a couple, or does he, like, have to ask you to be his girlfriend? Are you going to make a move next time you guys hang out?? Ahh I love this! My ship is finally sailing!"

And as much as she liked Hermione's enthusiasm, she wasn't about to do anything drastic that would change her relationship with Sean, even if change meant being able to act on all of her feelings.

She was still content with the way things were going now. She could easily enjoy holding Sean's hand while not making everything official yet. It was good this way, slowly getting to know this side of each other, without pressure from other people to do or to not do certain things. It wasn't that she had commitment issues, she was definitely and completely ready to tie herself to Sean in that way. She just wanted to do it their way.

"Everything in time, Hermione, everything in time."

And while the sun started to lower itself towards the great lake, Kaycee realised that there would indeed be a certain time for everything.

****

In many ways, Hermione's hug was similar to the one her sister had given him at the beginning of the school year, and in many ways, it was not.

Just like back then, Sean had felt the girl before he had seen her. The difference was, however, that this time, he had expected it.

Hermione had stayed strong up until madam Pomfrey had told them they weren't allowed to go inside, to go to Harry, and barely a few seconds after the nurse had turned her back to them to check on her patient, Hermione had crumpled, turning to him and burrying her face in his chest, curls bouncing as she cried, and his heart broke.

They stood there, he and Hermione, amidst of all the chaos. Some people were running away as fast as they could, afraid more bad things were about to come, others tried to get closer to that damned maze, their curiosity getting the better of them.

He tried to block out the outside world and concentrate on his best friend only, but it was no easy task, not with all the screams of terror of all the people who had only just seen Cedric Diggory's body. Sean saw from the corner of his eye that the hufflepuff was being dragged inside by Hagrid, Cedric's undoubtedly cold hand in his father's, who kept begging his son to wake up.

Cracks, blows, cuts in his heart.

He didn't know how much more he could handle.

Then, he felt a hand on his upper arm, slightly rubbing up and down, and he didn't have to look to know who it was. Kaycee was sniffing too, and it didn't take him and her sister more than a split second to include her in their hug.

Even though she was hurting as well, Kaycee made sure that she had given both Sean and her sister a kiss on the cheek before giving in to her own needs and burying her face in her sister's hair. At the same time, she took Sean's hand and intertwined her fingers with his.

For a brief moment, Sean wondered how they must look from the outside, him hugging two girls who weren't his family, but then he realised that everyone around them had better things to do than watching 3 people hug, and that even if someone saw them hug, he really, really didn't care. He already knew that the safety and well being of these girls would always be his first priority, and he wasn't ashamed of that. Besides, he was very aware of the fact that he wasn't only offering them comfort, they were the only reason he still stood straight as well.

And then suddenly, he felt another hand, on his shoulder this time, and he tilted his cheek from the top of Hermione's head to see Ron, looking paler than usual, tears brimming in his eyes. His friend wrapped one of his arms around Hermione's middle and laid the other on Sean's back, and Sean knew when looking into Ron's eyes that he didn't join because he was jealous that Sean was the one holding Hermione first. In fact, he knew that nothing of this was out of jealousy. It was out of love, for both him and Hermione, even though those were two completely different types of love.

In return, Sean put his hand on Ron's back, beckoning him to come closer, to join their hug, and Ron did. He heard Hermione sigh, keeping her arms around Sean but laying her head in the crook of Ron's neck, slightly having to stretch her own neck to do so because she was simply so much smaller than Ron.

And through all the darkness, the grief and the tears, he felt his mouth stretch into a small smile, looking at Hermione trying so hard not to let him go while also being close to the boy she loved in another way than a friend.

It made him think about all the good moments, him and Hermione finally succeeding in playing that one piano piece together, the way Kaycee's eyes shone during the Yule Ball- actually, no, the way Kaycee's eyes every day, Neville finally getting his deserved moment of victory after giving Harry the needed gillyweed,...

Hard times were coming, he was no fool, he knew it would be tough. But he also knew that in the end, it would be worth it. Worth it because he wanted all the people he shared those good moments with, to keep having a good life, a good world to live in. He wanted Hermione to be able to continue with S.P.E.W, wanted Ron to keep irritating her, Harry to finally have a moment of rest. He wished for Luna to get the courage to tell Neville about her feelings, instead of only smiling at his picture while laying in their common room, and he wanted Neville to give Luna that hug he had -according to Harry- been sleep talking about for 3 months now.

There was so much he still wanted for his friends, family and himself. All they needed was time, and he would make sure it's what they got. Time.

He was aware of the fact that he didn't know a lot yet, but he was convinced that in the end, everything would be worth it.

Light would drive out darkness.

It would.

#hogwarts #hogwartshighlights #Sean lew #kayceerice #dance #harrypotter #romione #ronweasley #hermionegranger #hp #lunalovegood #neville longbottom #nuna

[blumearts]

pallette 79

(I’ve started a little “series” thing. I’ve got ideas for all of the Potter-Malfoy kids and I’ll be releasing drawings and headcanons of them. I hope you enjoy!! I’d advise that you go look at the other kid’s stuff to avoid confusion)

The next of the Potter-Malfoy kids I’d like to introduce you to is Eltanin

It was May of 2006, and Eudora was about 4-5 months along with Alsafi when Harry opened the front door to find a baby snoozing on his doorstep. 

The baby looked newly born, with tufts of hair on his head, two patches of which, Harry noticed, were bright white.

With the shock of it all, Harry dropped a quite heavy bag he had been planning to bring with him to work

It made a loud thunk right next to the baby + harry just winced expecting to hear shrieks of crying

but the baby was silent

Harry ofc immediately hurried him inside to make sure he was warm and alive with no obvious problems.

and that’s when the baby began to wail 

It’s crying echoed through the house, loud enough to wake up the whole house. (8 y/o Teddy, 4 y/o twins, 2 y/o Cassiopeia and of course, nearly 26 y/o Draco)

Harry wasn’t able to quiet the baby + was v scared that perhaps the baby was in pain or had some sort of medical issue.

So, Draco stumbles down stairs + before he sees the baby he’s yawning and asking why Cassiopeia is shrieking that loudly 

… and then he freezes. that baby is not Cassiopeia. He’s much smaller, and much darker. 

he’s only frozen for a grand total of 2 seconds before he starts to freak out

“whO’S BABY IS THAT?! WHY DO YOU HAVE A BABY ?! OH GOD. HARRY DID YOU STEAL A BABY?!” 

+ for just a hot, terrifying second, Draco looks around expecting to find Eudora. But no, this wasn’t their baby, Alsafi. It was too big to be so premature.

Harry , still trying to rock the baby attempts to calmly explain that no, he did not steal a baby. 

 In the wee hours of this morning, Draco + Harry are running around trying to figure out what to do.

They finally get the baby to quiet down in Draco’s arms, while Harry sits across from him. 

Draco’s looking down at the boy and with a jolt, sees that his eyes are open. and he just kind of… gaps down at him. 

“…harry… his eyes… one’s- one’s bright blue.” He just whispers distractedly and bit concerned. 

He generally wouldn’t be concerned about Heterochromia, but the fact that this boy did not seem to be able to genetically have any shade of blue eyes worried him 

perhaps he had been cursed and left to them?

Harry comes over too and stares down at the infant. Something is itching at the back of brain

 “We have to take him to St. Mungo’s don’t we?” 

So they send a fire message to Molly to come watch the kids while before flooing over to St. Mungos.

Mediwitches take the boy and inspect him, all while Draco and Harry wait in another room, anxious.

They’re eventually told that the boy is a newborn and looks to have “Moderate Sedendum Syndrome” which the muggles call “Type II Waardenburg Syndrome.”

The boy is permanently deaf and has pigmentation issues. The only major concern is that they need to watch him for Kidney and Pulmonary Artery Abnormalities, but he should be fine. 

The mediwitch also shows them that a boy had been written on on his stomach, leaving a message that his parents did not want him because of his condition (in which, they thought it a curse) and that they left it with Draco and Harry because they’re “collecting kids anyway? What’s one more?”

This message later leaves Hermione to make the note that the baby’s parents are probably purebloods, as they didn’t think it could be a mundane defect

Harry gently scrubs it off with his own hands, feeling a bit angry and protective over the boy already 

Then starts the long and complicated meetings with the Social work department of the Ministry. + the long conversations over whether or not they should keep the boy, especially with a son already on the way.

They end up deciding to send him to the “international foster home” I mentioned before bc two newborn babies to take care of in the span of 5 months didn’t seem like something they could realistically handle with all their children.

but that night neither of them can sleep, and in their guts it just feels right to take the boy in. because over all the time trying to figure out what to do with him, they had both been thinking about things like names, and what his room would look like and whether Anita would share with him or not. What house he would be in. What kind of magic he would do.

So they take him (bc shit, their first children were twins, they could do this) and name him Eltanin (Lucius). and get him fitted for hearing aids (cute little ones with nifflers on them) 

They begin to teach the other kids sign language immediately, learning themselves constantly, so that by the time Eltanin is 6 months old, they can start working with him on it. 

they also try to anticipate his future life, Hogwarts and beyond that. 

they meet with lots of people. deaf wizards and muggles as well as parents of deaf wizards and muggles. speech therapists. doctors. specialists. anyone who can give them a full view. (one of these people happen to be Theodore Nott, who had recently had a son who was born with profound hearing loss)

They had a few main questions: Should they encourage him to learn to speak and sign at the same time? Can he even learn to speak with profound hearing loss? Should he get a cochlear implant or not? Should he not go to Hogwarts and instead go to a school for the deaf, where he could feel more culturally intact? 

In short, it all boils down to, how much will his deafness affect his life?

They decide to go ahead with a witch speech therapist, specifically trained to deal with children with profound hearing loss. 

They want him to learn to speak and sign, but were advised not to invest in a cochlear implant, because Eltanin may not want it in the future. He could go to Hogwarts, but should probably have regular contact with other deaf wizards. Which means lots of playdates with Hyacinthus Nott.

he’s not a crier, or a complainer, or a tantrum thrower.

He’ll cry if he needs something and stops when he gets it. If he falls, he asks for a bandaid and moves on. If he’s upset he hides it.

As Eltanin gets older this concerns Harry greatly. He begins to tell Eltanin when he’s 5 that he can come to Harry if he’s upset. That he won’t be mad or judge him if that’s what he’s worried about. That it’s okay to be upset, it’s okay to show that sometimes, even if they aren’t your shining and most proud moments.

But Eltanin is happy kid. He’s very bubbly and one that jokes around a lot

but he’s also sassy. Like.. too sassy for his own good. He’s a back talker and frequent sarcasm user. (He signs sarcastically, I mean. no one even knows how he manages it) 

He insists on continuing the whole “niffler hearing aids” thing for his entire life bc this boy is obsessed with extremely random things

He loves nifflers, finds them fascinating. and the Goblin Rebellions? Don’t even get him started. He also likes Korean Wizard rock bands that Harry constantly dad jokes him about

Though he and Alsafi are only 7 months apart, they end up going into separate years bc of the August cut off and Eltanin never lets him forget it. “I am your older brother, therefore my clear authority over you dictates that…”

He gets to Hogwarts and the hat takes a very long time to decide. Is he a Gryffindor or is he Ravenclaw or …”Slytherin!” 

Eltanin was well liked by his housemates, who immediately learned sign language for him. Even the Slytherins who didn’t know Eltanin learned to sign

It eventually got to the point of being a tradition in the Slytherin house, which was upheld for many decades past Eltanin being there.

(Around 12 Eltanin’s hair turned completely white, which his housemates thought was super cool.)

Everything seemed amazing for Eltanin and the other kids but, at this point people started to talk. 

Those who went through the war and knew what Draco Malfoy did. Those who were so anti-dark wizard that they couldn’t believe- didn’t believe - that Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world, could really marry Draco Malfoy of his own free will, in his right mind. and on the other hand, why would Draco Malfoy want to marry and have kids with Harry Potter anyway? Not to mention, they were turning out mostly Slytherin children…

It was still only whispers and rumors and conspiracy, still things whispered behind hands and laughed at by most. The kids were teased sometimes, something Teddy always put a stop to.

.. until about a year later when Rita Skeeter released a 962 page book. “Draco Malfoy’s Dark Secret” 

It outlined (with plenty of extremely convincing evidence) how Draco is continually slipping Harry love potions in order to trap him, and is now taking in children to brainwash and turn into soldiers, “or worse, experiment on”. It painted Harry as a tragic victim and their kids as possibly dangerous.

To the general public this accusation seemed extremely far fetched and completely silly. Some saying it “worthy of the Lovegoods” until they read it.

When Draco and Harry got a copy in their hands, they were sure that if they hadn’t been them, they would have a hard time not believing this theory, with all the evidence they’d no idea how Rita acquired. 

Ron even half believed it. Harry caught him checking a mug of coffee Draco had made for him, and tried to ask Harry if he was sure of what was going on. 

Harry had just snatched the drink away and gulped it down, looking Ron straight in the eye and refusing to speak to him for days. 

It was the kids who took the brunt of it really. Teddy had graduated and the Slytherins were the only ones who took up for them.

It got so bad that Sirius ended up taking refuge, sleeping in turns in her sibling’s beds and studying between breaks in the Slytherin common room. 

It began to be a normal sight to see red and gold Sirius sitting in their common room.

Rita’s book was even banned in Hogwarts in an attempt to help the kids.

Harry and Draco had to keep holed up inside, with Ginny bringing the necessities.

It was interestingly Neville who came to the aid of Harry. With the help of Luna and Hannah, he put together a book with interviews, pictures and stories from anyone who knew Harry and Draco well.

 Rolf, Hermione, Ron, Dean, Seamus, Pavarti and Padma, all the Weasleys, Dennis Creevey, Eltanin’s speech therapist, Narcissa and Lucius, Andromeda, Hagrid, Professors Mcgonagall, Sprout, Slughorn and Flitwick, Eleanora, various Mediwitches and healers. Mrs Figg, Cho Chang, Viktor Krum, Gabrielle Delacor, and even Blaise, Pansy, Theodore and their spouses showed up to help. 

The book was exactly 963 pages and was simply labeled “the Truth About the Potter-Malfoy Family” 

It didn’t exactly cause the Potter-Malfoys to be considered a group angels, but it did finally quiet the craziness Rita had started.

Eltanin had a relatively normal Hogwarts-career after that fiasco.

He’s the only of the kids that didn’t play quidditch, but you bet your ass he was out there with their names on hid forehead whenever they played.

Eltanin is a fantastic Potioneer

He ended up going by “Malfoy” 

+ after being told about their parents as students, he and Alsafi jokingly sneered “Potter” “Malfoy” at each other whenever they passed

8/13/2017

#sorry if this was shit guys ; I finished it at 5 am #Draco Malfoy #drarry #drarry squad #Harry Potter #the potter-malfoy kids

[asriels]

Okay. Now that I know your in the fandom I need sow of your next gen headcanons (sorry I'm just obsessed with your headcanons. I am also here for Slytherin!Lily!)

I have a large collection of Next Gen headcanons, carefullycurated over the years I’ve been in this fandom. They go on for days so I’mreally sorry. I almost entirely reject CursedChild, just so you know (the only bit I like is the rumours that Scorpiusis Voldemort’s kid, because that makes Astoria fascinating).

As a whole, the kids are more disparate than people thoughtthey would be. Few of them count their closest friends within the family, mostmake their best friends outside of it. The exceptions to this rule are:Dominique, Molly and Teddy; Fred and Lucy. They all love each other and arefirst in line to defend each other, obviously, and will usually hang out andhave a smashing time, but when it comes to who they gravitate towards they’reusually found outside the family.

Other Weasley family things as a whole: divorce rates seethe same rise in the wizarding world as in the Muggle one. George and Angelinaamicably call it quits when Fred is seven and Roxanne is three. Ron andHermione separate for a good few years after Rose is born but end up backtogether, and Hugo follows. (Unknowingly these two have a half-sister: Ron’sdaughter with Daphne Greengrass, product of an ill-judged fling, who iseighteen months younger than Rose.)

Molly and Lucy lose their mother Audrey when Molly isthirteen and Lucy is ten. To almost everybody’s surprise, Percy does anexcellent job raising them alone. They’re still mad as a bag of cats butthen—they’re Weasleys.

I could bang on about inter-family dynamics forever but I’llgo on to the individual kids now.

Teddy—Hufflepuff. Really tall (like 6′3″) and has got a real Black family look to him, which he hates. I’m writing a Teddy fic at the moment that has turned into a sprawling monsterand contains most of my Teddy headcanons. In short: bit of a loser, butcharming and hapless so makes friends wherever he goes. Directionless. Happy tolive off the money his parents left him and the benefits he gets from theMinistry as a war orphan. He’s a fine artist, but he never puts the effort intoactually getting his name and work out there. He’s best friends with Dominique(two years younger than him) and Molly (four years younger than him). They windeach other up a lot but ultimately adore one another. He has a finely honedsense of the ridiculous and a hugely empathetic nature, which he mostly triesto keep hidden. He’ll be fine, in the end.

Victoire—Ravenclaw.A hugely difficult act to follow for most of her cousins. Beautiful, caring, atalented witch—but also bullish, one-track-minded, with a tendency to set asidethe feelings and concerns of others if she gets fixated on a goal. Mostly thisgets called ‘ambition’ and praised, but her sister thinks of it more asselfishness. She has huge aspirations for her life and damn if she doesn’t getthere. Of course, being Victoire, she does it despite getting accidentallypregnant much earlier than she wanted to, and ends up with a similarly brilliantson as well as the career she wanted. Nobody can quite figure out how she’sdone it.

Dominique—Gryffindor.Dominique is pure fire. She’s quite aggressive, but her temper burns itself outquickly and she forgives as hastily as she runs to fury. Her affection is hardto win but once you’ve done it her loyalty is unyielding. She’s prickly,brusque, funny, and has a kinder heart than you would believe underneath itall. Not much patience, but lots and lots of laughter.

Louis—Gryffindor.So laid back he’s horizontal. He has a grand total of two interests in theworld: computers and celebrity gossip. He’s beautiful in a way that makespeople stumble over their words around him which he actually doesn’t much likeso he tries to dress it down. He wears oversized 80s glasses and his hair long,like his dad used to. He floats through life seeming almost untouchable untilhe gets into a very messy drama concerning Lily at 19 and he ends up a lot morephilosophical and altruistic.

Molly—Gryffindor.Known as ‘Young Molly’ to differentiate her from her grandmother within thefamily, but it kind of spreads until everybody calls her that. Hapless. Honestlythe character I think she’s most like is Isla Fisher’s character inBachelorette but without the hard drugs (not that she’s never done that, but it’snot like—a regular thing). She seems kind of oblivious a lot of the time. She’ssoft and easily hurt, and inspires protectiveness/caring instinct in others.Honestly she could take care of herself if she had to but she’s always hadDominique and/or Teddy and Lucy looking out for her so she’s never had to try.

Lucy—Ravenclaw.Conspiracy nut. She’s absolutely convinced the Founders weren’t real and arejust a convenient story made up later in Hogwarts’ history. She’s very bold andserious and intense, and jokes tend to go over her head quite a lot. She’s alsoabsolutely fascinated by space (mostly because of aliens and alienconspiracies) and ends up going to Muggle university to study Astrophysics. She’skind of off-the-wall, but once you get to know her you can’t help liking herbecause she’s so unapologetic about who she is.

Fred—Gryffindor.Pretty much the opposite of the uncle he was named for except for his lovelymerry sense of humour and his resolute bravery. He’s Prefect and then Head Boy,the one everybody knows they can go to with their problems for his ability tolisten, offer sensible advice, and then make you laugh. He’s calm, solid,unyielding. 90% of the girls in younger years (and a few of the boys) arecompletely in love with him. He’s the friendly face of the Weasley family. Therest tend to be a zany, prickly bunch—but Fred is pure warmth, and he’s open togetting to know anybody.

Roxanne—Hufflepuff.During her teenage years she’s pretty EdgyTM and gets into a lot ofindie Muggle bands and spends a lot of time yelling at people about theenvironment and the bees. She’s a bit of an inventing whizz and has inheritedher paternal grandfather’s fascination with Muggle technology, and spends a lotof her free time tinkering with Muggle things like iPods to make them work withmagic. Roxanne’s main problem is that she cares far too much, so much it hurtsher, and she has to focus on something to give her an outlet for all thatcompassion. Her cousins know that she’s not going to be first in line to seekthem out, but if somebody’s hurting them she will be the first one into the ensuingfistfight.

Rose—Gryffindor.Nobody quite expected Rose to turn out the way she did. She has her father’shapless charm and tendency to put his foot in his mouth, but this is pairedwith her mother’s ruthless pragmatism. She believes very strongly in thingsbeing Sensible and Explicable, and fights a lot with both Lucy (who she feelsis wasting everybody’s time) and Lily (who will espouse inexplicable thingsjust to frustrate her). Rose faces a deep conflict inside herself, one thatmakes her quite a reflective and irritable person: she has the gift of Sight,but has absorbed her mother’s derisive attitude towards Seers. She tries toignore her visions, but they will not leave her alone.

Hugo—Ravenclaw.Hugo just wants to be left alone. He’s quiet, frightening clever, and with amind for strategy that you wouldn’t believe. Really, he belongs in somesweeping epic high fantasy where he could lead people and fight battles andprove himself. Instead he’s stuck in a life where he’s overshadowed by hislouder family members. He retreats into books and music, and ultimatelyretreats from the wizarding world altogether. He gets a flat with three Muggleguys, all into music, and they end up forming a band that becomes world famous.Hugo turns his intelligence to songwriting and strikes a chord with the publicthat nobody would have believed possible.

James—Gryffindor.James thinks he is a Bad Boy, and by virtue of getting tattoos, smoking,partying, and wearing a leather jacket everywhere has mostly managed toconvince everybody else he really is Bad. His family see right through him. Hepretends not to care about anything but he has internalised a huge amount offrustration and an inferiority complex about his father’s legacy which makeshim prone to acts of aggression. He will act out simply to prove he is not hisfather. The only people that can calm him are his younger siblings and, later,the person he will eventually marry. James mellowed out is a much nicer person,but it takes him a while to get there.

Albus—Gryffindor.Albus has the same inferiority complex about his dad as James, but his goesdeeper because he asked the Sorting Hat to put him in Gryffindor, and spendsthe next couple of decades wondering where he’d be if he hadn’t. He doesn’tfeel he deserves to be Harry Potter’s son. Inside he is the angriest andscariest of all the Potter siblings, but he has covered this up with suchlayers of cool that most people overlook his quiet fury in favour of hissiblings’ volatile attitudes to everything. He is cutting and snide, ready toback up his taunts with fists/hexes if he needs to, and generally is cut of asharper cloth than most people in his family. Lily and James have softer heartsinside than anybody realises. Albus is the opposite.

Lily—Slytherin. Lilyis my favourite next gen character and also the one I struggle to get a grip onmost. She’s prickly and resentful, prone to lashing out, and wants to punishthe world for heaping all this expectation on her as the daughter of HarryPotter. Mostly this results in her damaging herself more than anybody else. She’sa party animal from the age of fourteen, into alcohol and drugs, anddeliberately gets pregnant at 15 in a skewed attempt to punish her parents.Actually being pregnant makes her stop and re-evaluate, however. Her attitudedoesn’t change massively, but she does take steps to dealing with her anger.She reconnects with Teddy over the whole issue and he encourages her to talk tosomebody. She’ll never be okay, exactly, but she refocuses her intense emotionsinto other pursuits instead of on herself and her parents. She gets taken outof Hogwarts to be homeschooled between the ages of fourteen and sixteen, andreturns a more together and confident person. She still goes hard as fuck, but it comes from a desire to havefun rather than a deep insecurity.

Scorpius—Gryffindor.Kind of an asshole, which is why he gets on so well with Albus, but he’sinherited from his mother a sense of the ridiculous that makes him great fun.He can find the funny side in almost anything. He went into Gryffindor mostlybecause he thought it would be hilarious and piss off his dad, who he feels treatshis mum badly. He’s prone to do anything he thinks will get a rise out ofpeople, which makes him a menace if you’re the subject of his needling buthilarious if you’re not.

Lysander and Lorcanare much younger than the rest of the Potter-Weasley kids and don’t mix muchwith them as a result. They’re brought up travelling the world and studyingmagical creatures, and have an incredibly piecemeal education up until they goto Hogwarts as a result. Their basic understanding of the world is almostnon-existent (neither of them can do much more mathematics than basic additionand subtraction, cannot conceptualise the solar system, and wouldn’t believeyou if you told them humans have been to the Moon), but they each speak severallanguages, have exceptional control of their wandless magic, and an encyclopaedicknowledge of magical creatures. Their relationship with each other is almostsymbiotic, and being separated at Hogwarts is highly traumatic for both ofthem. When they are seventeen they witness their father being brutally killedby a rogue magical creature, and end up putting their abilities to use huntingdown and containing any magical creature known to pose a threat to human life.

Lysander—Gryffindor.Taciturn and prone to moodiness. Braver than you would believe. Relies onlyupon himself and his brother (as a result of distracted, occasionallyneglectful but loving parents) and is never willing to allow anybody else intohis business. His control of wandless magic is unmatched in the last twocenturies, and a couple of his teachers keep a careful eye on him as he fitsthe profile of somebody who could end up turning very dark and being immenselydestructive. Lysander would never even dream it, though. He’s selfish,introverted and a loner but his intentions are wholly good and he couldn’t turndark if he tried.

Lorcan—Ravenclaw.Lorcan is almost painfully shy and struggles with great social anxiety. Despitethis, he makes some friends in his house and, though he still depends onLysander, can function apart from him. He’s incredibly clever and can retaininformation so well it’s almost unbelievable. He’s never the first to speak upin class but—depending on the subject—he almost always has the right answerwhen called upon. His grades are fairly poor despite this. His knowledge andpractical ability is enormous, but his essays and exam answers are rambling andirrelevant, veering off down pathways that interest him but that have no basisin the question asked.

Okay and because this is long already I might as well makeit longer, right? So here are my thoughts about other non-canon kids and justquick sketches of them.

Leonora Greengrass—Slytherin.Known as Lo. Ron’s daughter with Daphne. She has a terrible relationship withher mother as both are selfish and fickle, and is the sort of person for whom everythingis someone else’s fault. She doesn’t know who her dad is until she’s eighteen,since Daphne has kept her concealed from Ron, and when she finds out she blameshim for not being part of her life and sets out to try to destroy him. She endsup getting along very well with him and they become incredibly positiveinfluences on one another. Ron feels he can be there for her in a way he thinkshe couldn’t be for his own kids, and she thrives with a positive male rolemodel in her life.

Longbottom kids—Daisy(Hufflepuff), Poppy (Gryffindor) and Euan (Slytherin). Daisy is adorable inevery way, very maternal and giving. Poppy is sociable, out-going and a massivedrama queen. Florian is good friends with Lily Potter—sarcastic, unnecessarilyrude, and generally a much more unpleasant person than you’d think it waspossible for Neville and Hannah to produce.

Astynome Nott—Slytherin.James’ best friend. Known as Asta. Terrifying, irrepressible, takes noprisoners and no bullshit. Frightens most of James’ family apart from Lily andAlbus, who think she’s awesome.

Eirnin McLaggen—Hufflepuff.Possibly the purest soul on the planet. James’ future husband. Introverted,soft-spoken, deeply kind and patient. Finds it easier spending time withanimals than with people. Struggles deeply with the division between hisCatholic faith and his magic and his sexuality.

McLaggen kids—apartfrom Eirnin we have Eithne (Hufflepuff, dates Teddy for a while, very merry andgiving), Faolan (Gryffindor, James’ arch-nemesis, braggart and brawler), thentwo much younger sisters I haven’t fully developed yet. They grow up in thewizarding village of Tullyaghan, Co Fermanagh, Northern Ireland, on the landwhere their father breeds and trains Kelpies for a dangerous wizarding versionof polo. They are all fearless, rough-and-ready, and incredibly proud of anancestry that has fought the English at every turn.

Lily’s best friends—allSlytherin. Yelena Nott (Asta’s younger sister, the leader of the crew. Type Aice queen with a ruthless competent streak and absolutely no patience foranything), Ophelia Yaxley (sweet and easily-led, attaches herself to thenearest mean girl like silly string, helplessly in love with Albus Potter andconstantly messed around by him), Sophie Parkinson (unafraid, irresponsible,loves to party more than anybody else), and Beth Zabini (she and Lily actuallykind of hate each other, but they’re still…best friends….nobody else gets iteither).

Okay I’m done, Ipromise. I promise. Sorry about this.

#hp #hp headcanons #mine #next gen #nga