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albaskies · 14 days

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But Daddy, I love him!

Written for @corneliaavenue-ao3's The Tortured Potters Department - Several Sunlit Daylights Fest | Read here or on AO3:

Ginny is extremely pleased with herself for having somehow managed to turn the candles in her room back on. She hasn’t done it on purpose, of course, nor has she premeditated it - she simply squeezed her eyes shut, wishing so very hard that she didn’t have to go to sleep, and upon opening them, she found her room dimly lit again. She’s started to display her first signs of magic lately, and she’s very proud of having caught up with her brothers in that regard, of being one step closer to them. Sometimes she finds herself dreaming that, if she keeps up with this pace and maybe if she manages to practice a bit, she’ll receive her Hogwarts letter early and she’ll be able to join Bill and Charlie there…

A gentle knock on the door distracts her from her thoughts, and her father enters the room, his glasses slid down the tip of his nose, his smile drowsy.

‘Ginny,’ he sighs, but still looking at her fondly. He seems to have decided to ignore the candles that are inexplicably lighting the room. ‘Shouldn’t you be asleep already?’

Ginny shrugs, a wry smirk painted on her face. She’s relieved that it’s her dad who’s found her still awake, rather than her mum. Her mum would hush her back to bed, not wanting to hear a single word - but with her dad, she knows she has more leeway, she knows that he’ll sit with her and watch her until she falls asleep.

‘Can you tell me the story of the Boy Who Lived?’

Her father sighs again, as he approaches her bed and sits down next to her. She scooches over, trying to leave as much space as she can for him to be comfortable.

‘Why do you like that story so much?’

‘Because,’ says Ginny, taking a big breath. ‘Well, because I love him, Daddy!’

Her dad’s eyes are bewildered as he lets out a hearty laugh. ‘Oh, do you now? And why’s that?’

‘Because he’s all alone, his Mummy and Daddy died and he doesn’t have any brothers or sisters,’ replies Ginny, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. ‘Mum said that he needs everyone’s love, so maybe I can give him some, too.’

Her father looks at her tenderly, almost in disbelief, as if he’s wondering how they’ve managed to raise such a kind and loving soul.

‘You know what, Ginny, I think you’re quite right. I’m sure he could use some love from everyone.’ he tells her, gently stroking her hair. ‘Come on now, lay down properly and I’ll tell you the story.’

She beams at him, and soon falls asleep to the sound of words she knows too well; words about a dark-haired boy, a lightning scar, and the sheer power of love.

The storm has finally ended, and now a thick, shiny blanket of snow covers the orchard at the Burrow like a layer of frosting on her favourite desserts. She’ll be able to play outside tomorrow - building snow wizards and witches or snowball fighting with her brothers, and hopefully someone will enchant the snowballs just to add a little more fun to the game. But Ginny - elbows on her desk, head held between her hands, her eyes fixed outside the window - isn’t particularly excited about the prospect, or excited at all for that matter. Quite the contrary, actually - she is really, really furious with her brother for spending his second Christmas in a row away from home, leaving her alone once again. It was bad enough, last year - but, at least, her parents had taken her to Romania to visit Charlie, and she had become used to Ron’s absence anyway, so she had stopped holding a grudge relatively quickly. This year she’s home, and everyone else is home too, but Ron has chosen to stay at Hogwarts. He was not forced by the circumstances, or else - it was his conscious, deliberate choice.

The truth is that she’s not just angry about Christmas, but about the whole stupid term, too. After spending every single day of their lives together for ten years, and after waiting for twelve exasperating months just to join him, Ron has barely ever spent any time with her at school. She’s quite sure that he’s even tried to avoid her intentionally on a couple of occasions. To make everything much worse, it’s been rather challenging for her to make new friends this year - which is odd, she reckons, considering that she’s normally very outgoing and fun to talk to. She’d hoped that Ron could’ve helped, that’s all. But his new circle of very important friends doesn’t seem to have a spot for her now, and certainly it doesn’t help that one of these friends is -

Her heart sinks in her stomach. Somehow, she can’t shake off the strange feeling of disappointment over Harry not being here, either. She’d wished she were able to spend more time with him outside of school; she had even rehearsed a couple of things to say in his presence, and she was sure, so very sure, that she wouldn’t have blushed this time. Well, it hadn’t been her idea, actually, but she’d been positive it would’ve worked this time. The only friend she’s been able to make this year has assured her of that.

A casual knock on her door startles her, but she doesn’t turn around to check who’s entered her room. She knows all too well that only her father would bother to knock on a door that’s been left open anyway.

‘Ready to come down, Ginny?’, she hears his voice say, confirming her suspicions. ‘Or do you intend to keep sulking up here for a while longer?’

She feels a little embarrassed by his question but, when she turns around to look at him, she finds with slight relief that his glare isn’t harsh or judgemental.

‘It’s not fair, Dad!’, she complains. ‘Why did you let Ron stay at Hogwarts for the holidays?’

‘He wanted to keep his friends company. I think that’s actually very nice,’ her father calmly replies. She knows that by his friends he really means Harry, because she reckons Hermione has a nice family to go back to. Although, it’s rather weird that she decided to stay, too - maybe she also wanted to keep Harry company? She bitterly concludes that she doesn’t know, nor she ever will, because nobody tells her anything, nobody includes her in anything, she’s always left behind.

‘Harry could’ve come over too, couldn’t he?’, she then asks without thinking.

‘Well, of course we would’ve been happy to have him, but I’m afraid it’s a little more complicated than that.’

Not knowing what he means, she feels suddenly irritated, almost as if her father intended to suggest that Harry didn’t want to spend Christmas at the Burrow because of her. That would make sense, actually, given that she hasn’t been able to behave like a normal person every time they’ve been in the same room. What if she’s annoyed him beyond repair? What if he… hates her now?

‘But I really don’t understand why Harry wouldn’t want to -’

‘Maybe we should leave Harry and his business alone for the time being, don’t you think?’, suggests her father gingerly.

Another wave of humiliation rushes through her body, as she feels that her father’s just simultaneously exposed and dismissed one of her deepest secrets. But she has to defend it, doesn’t she, she has to stand up for herself -

‘But Daddy, I love him!’, she shouts, yet flushing, feeling more ashamed than ever.

Her father gives her a puzzled look, his lips pursed together in a thin line. ‘Don’t be silly, Ginny,’ he says matter-of-factly. ‘Come on now, go wash your hands, dinner’s almost ready.’

Ginny gives him another sheepish look as he leaves the room without uttering another word, but she doesn’t obey straight away. Instead, she quickly grabs her diary like it’s a magnet, suddenly feeling the urge to let out all her frustration, shame and dejection.

I love him, but nobody believes me, she writes, warm tears filling up her eyes. Nobody understands.

Within a few seconds, her words made of ink sink into the rough paper, and new ones slowly emerge in that all-too-familiar fashion.

I do understand you, Ginny, they read. I am the only one who does.

It almost feels surreal - to be home. To eat properly, to rest, to finally lower her guard; to escape from all the secrecy, the plotting, the sneaking around, and, well, yes, from all the punishments, the physical strain, and the emotional abuse.

She hasn’t realised how drained she’s felt until she sinks in her favourite plush chair in the living room of the Burrow, surrounded by her family, feeling warm again. She even manages to avoid the prying eyes, quietly dozing off for a little while. But then she’s awakened by a soft thump - something small and smooth has been thrown into her lap.

‘Is it true, then?’, asks George, while she examines the familiar coin he’s passed on to her. ‘Have you reinstated the D.A.?’

Before she can answer, her mother glares at her with fire in her eyes.

‘I should hope not, Ginny.’

Ginny feels a sudden rush of annoyance tingling her body. Always the last, always protected, always underestimated. Always meant to be left behind.

‘Of course we have,’ she says mildly. ‘They’re torturing children for fun, you know.’

‘And what do you do when that happens?’, argues her mother sharply. ‘Do you take their place?’

As she does not reply, her mother’s expression changes from indignation to pure horror, her gaze darting quickly between Ginny’s face and that faded blue turtleneck jumper she’s wearing for the first time in years. She’s noticed, then.

‘Take off that jumper, Ginny.’

‘No.’

‘I said,’ her mother pleads, now shouting in fury. ‘Take off that jumper, now!’

Ginny isn’t really sure whether her refusal stems from her desire to spare her mother from further suffering, to protect her from the cuts, the bruises and scars she carries on her body like medals; or whether it comes from her own pride, her will to show that she, too, can fight.

She storms off to her bedroom, slamming the door, and she’s surprisingly left alone long enough for her to lie down and enjoy some quiet, exhausted by her own anger. Her bed feels softer than she could remember, her room like her only sanctuary in all the chaos.

The knock on the door she’s been expecting is weak and hesitant, and her father enters the room cautiously, almost as if he expects something to explode at any moment. She takes advantage of the silence to observe him, to register every new line around his mouth, every new wrinkle around his eyes. He seems to have aged years in the span of just a few short months.

She raises her back and sits on the bed, still saying nothing. He breaks the silence first, watching her gravely, cutting straight to the chase.

‘Has your brother asked you to do this, Ginny?’, he asks, unable to fully conceal the bitterness in his voice. ‘Or Harry, for that matter?’

She shivers at the sound of his name, her eyes are now burning, but she doesn’t lower her gaze.

‘No, of course not.’

Her father exhales heavily, as if releasing a tension he’s been holding in his chest for Merlin knows how long, and sits down next to her on the bed.

‘Why do you do it, then?’, he asks her plainly. There’s no judgement in his voice, no resentment. ‘Why do you put your life on the line like that?’

This is when she immediately looks away, feeling a strange lump in her throat.

‘Why do you do it, Dad?’, she barely manages to say, her voice shaking.

He sighs again, defeated. ‘You should lay low, Ginny. You’re already very much in danger as it is, being a Weasley. No matter all the stories we’ve made up to cover for Harry, Snape knows that our family is close to him, and that means you as well.’

Ginny scoffs. A few months ago, she would’ve found such a comment insulting, belittling, maybe even a little heartbreaking. But now she’s so full of it - she’s so full of having to endure people passing judgements on what she is or isn’t for Harry, so full of having to pretend that they are nothing, so full of being scared to death that she’ll end up convincing herself, too. She can’t resist the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all - or, even more so, the urge to let it all out, to say it exactly as it is, because she doesn’t owe it to anyone to remain on the sidelines, not her mother, not her father, especially not Harry.

‘Oh, it’s much worse than that,’ she hisses, her sarcasm tainted with pure spite.

Her father gives her a quizzical look. She fixes her glare on him now, her voice no longer shaking, her eyes no longer stinging with tears.

‘I love him, Dad,’ she says, then lets out another high-pitched laugh. ‘It’s sickening, isn’t it? It makes me fucking sick.’

He looks at her, transfixed, too appalled to scold her for her language. After so many years, it still surprises him. But there’s something different in the way she’s said it now, something that wasn’t there when she was five or eleven years old. Acceptance, disillusionment, anger, sadness. Maturity.

His eyes glimmer as if he’s just finally laid the final piece in one of his Muggle puzzles, and the full picture finally comes to life. He seems, somehow, to understand it all at once.

‘And he loves you too, I suppose?’

Ginny feels a familiar, but long forgotten heat creeping on her cheeks. For a short moment, it feels good to blush again.

‘I reckon he does, yes,’ she whispers. Those words feel weird exposed to the real world - she’s never acknowledged it out loud, and Harry certainly has never told her. Hers is just a hunch, a gut feeling, maybe an innocent hope, something she’s never dared to question. Now that she’s said them, those words don’t lose their meaning, as she feared they would - rather, they resonate even stronger in her, they just click, everything falls into place, but they don’t make her nearly as happy as they probably should have.

‘Don’t worry,’ she says bitterly, before her father can say anything. She reads it all over his face - the doubt, the concern, the suspicion. She shrugs. ‘He’s already taken care of it.’

For a short moment that seems suspended in time, they look at each other - a daughter that’s had to grow up way too soon, a father who’s understood that there are things he cannot shelter her from.

He then awkwardly pats her on her back, stands up, and leaves her room in silence, at a loss for words.

She, for one, is grateful that he hasn’t doubted her heart this time.

Their wedding is a rather small affair.

The marquee that had been previously used for Bill and Fleur’s wedding feels bigger than ever, now hosting barely thirty of them between their massive family, a handful of grandchildren, and their closest friends.

It has been Ginny and Harry’s desire to throw a modest party in the orchard, without making too much fuss, avoiding lavish and crowded celebrations. After all, the saviour of the Wizarding world marrying an internationally renowned Quidditch player is exactly that kind of event a horde of journalists and curious onlookers would throw themselves at, like a swarm of bees on a honey jar. So they’ve decided to keep it low and simple - just like their whole romance, after all.

If it were for Ginny, she would’ve got married wearing Muggle clothes somewhere deep in a forest, standing on a random rock, for all that she cares. But she didn’t want to rob her parents of the joy of walking their only daughter down the aisle, or her brothers of the opportunity of celebrating their only sister on one of the happiest days of her life. And Harry has happily obliged - ultimately, it is his family, too.

‘I just want to marry you,’ he said once, grinning madly, his green eyes flashing like the day he kissed her for the first time, that tenth of May of exactly five years ago.

And so here they are now, under the marquee, everyone either dancing, running around or mingling, champagne bubbling in their goblets (‘I’d still fancy a posh drink at my own wedding, thank you very much’), married at last.

Ginny smiles as she watches her (she feels heat all over her body to even fathom the word) husband trying to dance with her mother, his new mother-in-law, who is sobbing rather uncontrollably on his shoulder, dampening his new elegant robes. Harry has the most loving look in his eyes as he gently pats her on her back, and Ginny can’t help but notice that he’s a little choked up, too.

She’s so mesmerised by the two of them, so full of love, that it takes her a while to notice that her father has joined her, and is now staring at her with a knowing look painted on his face.

‘What?’, she laughs.

He grins at her tenderly, putting an arm around her shoulders.

‘You love him, don’t you?’

Ginny lets out another laugh. ‘Oh, d’you reckon? Whatever gave it away?’

Her father smiles again, wider this time, squeezing her tightly.

‘You might have mentioned it, you know, once or twice.’

#severalsunlitdaylights #the tortured potters department #happy hinny/taylor swift day everyone #hinny

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ginnyw-potter · 14 days

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I can fix him (No really I can)

This is written for The Tortured Potters Department, also part of the Several Sunlit Daylights Challenge! @corneliaavenue-ao3 Read below or on AO3

I can fix him.

Ginny could see other people think it, sometimes they said it out loud. Not literally, but they said it all the same.

I can make you happy.

I can make you forget all your troubles.

I can make the scars fade.

They very well could. They all looked at Harry and saw a man in need of change. They wanted to fix the scars, inside and out. They wanted to take him on adventures and make him forget all the things he had gone through. They wanted to placate him. They wanted to chase the nightmares away and replace them with wonderful dreams. Some others wanted him to embrace his fame for once, or rise to power, be the man they thought he could be.

Ginny looked at him and saw someone she already loved.

She didn’t try to make him happy.

She didn’t try to make him forget all his troubles.

She didn’t mind the scars, the way he didn’t mind hers.

She loved on the scars the way she loved on the rest of his body. They were marks of his past, of the things he had been through, not things to hide or be ashamed of. Their existence didn’t scare her.

She knew he didn’t need an adventure, didn’t need to escape his life. He didn’t want to forget his loved ones, dead and alive. He spoke of enjoying time in the garden, and long walks enjoying the setting sun. Some things that some people may find terribly mundane, but it meant everything to him. They didn’t understand why it was important to him.

His temper was difficult for people to deal with, but Ginny always met him with equal power. She did not back off, and she wasn’t afraid to tell him the truth. She didn’t need to placate him, she needed to push back and meet him in the middle.

When he had a nightmare, she didn’t tell him it wasn’t real. She held him and sat with him until he felt better. They would talk about it and mull it over and let out bitter laughs over their misery. The nightmares followed a long time after the war was done, and she’d be there to work through them. Slowly but surely, tirelessly.

She didn’t want him to embrace his fame and attend event after event, knowing how it would torture him. She didn’t want him to grab power he never wanted. He did not crave it, he did not go looking for it, and she did not expect it of him.

Harry never asked to be changed. He didn’t need to become a new person, didn’t need to escape his life. He held onto the memories of lost loved ones and honoured their memory every day. He did not want the fame, or the power. And on most days, he just wanted to be normal.

But that’s not what people expect of him. They can fix him, or at least that’s what they think.

She did not need to fix him. Some scars never faded but they did not hurt him. Having his own home and settling him brought him peace. It gave him a place to come into his own and grieve the people he had lost. Sometimes it was the simple things, like hanging a framed picture up in the living room or making their favourite food. A place where he could be himself, where he wasn’t worried and where his emotions could flow freely. A place where the nightmares got soothed by comforting arms and softly spoken words, a cup of hot cocoa or a refreshing glass of water. And they could exist, and be talked about, and it would help him. A place where no one expected him to take the lead and have an answer to every question.

He spoke to her, softly whispered confessions in the middle of the night. She held him, and he kissed her softly.

“You make me so happy.”

She carded her fingers through his hair.

“You make me forget all my troubles without even trying,” he sighed. “You make me feel at peace.”

She pressed a kiss against his temple.

“You helped me love all of my scars.”

He never needed to change. She always loved him, flaws and all. Time healed many things, and she was there for it all, but he was never something to be fixed.

I can fix him , she thought. No, really; I can. It was never my intention; I would have loved him all the same.

“You fixed me.”

She shook her head and smiled at him. “I love you.”

He looked at her fondly and pulled her a little closer. “I am pretty sure that’s the same thing.”

#several sunlit daylights #the tortured potters department #hinny #fic

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ethan-nestor-owns-my-heart · 3 days

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‘Who’s Afraid Of Little Old Me?’ Is so Sam Carpenter coded

#sorry to my mutual who doesn’t like Taylor swift #scream #scream vi #scream 6 #scream v #melissa barrera #sam carpenter #Sam #samantha carpenter #fuck you spyglass #taylor swift #the tortured potters department #ttpd #who’s afraid of little old me #Spotify

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tomjamesavery · 14 days

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Adapted and re-wrote one of my drabbles, since it fit so nicely for @corneliaavenue-ao3 's Taylor Swift Several Sunlit Daylights Fest, with the prompt: "4. Down Bad" Read on: AO3 Harry felt possibly scandalous, as he was sneaking up the little winding gravel road that led to the Burrow. It was eleven pm on a warm July night while the moon and stars were lighting his way on this clear, cloudless evening.

It was quiet, except for some crickets and his footsteps on the gravel no sounds disturbed the evening peace. Bathing in nature's beauty he relished the nightly atmosphere bestowed on him. Feeling confident under the moon's silvery gown he paced up his steps, now skipping up the little shallow hill toward tonight's goal. The little rustical six-storied Wizarding cottage known as the Burrow.

But he wasn’t here for the architecture, if you could even name it that. He was here for something else, someone else. A flame in the dark, his burning light, the love of his life, Ginny.

After a few more minutes he finally arrived at the old building, now simply brandishing his wand, and out of thin air a tall wooden ladder appeared, leaning against the window frame on the third floor. He had a plan.

He climbed up his freshly conjured walkway, trying not to make any more noise than necessary, it was at the end of the day in the middle of the night, and the last thing he wanted, was to wake up the entirely Weasley Clan. Not that he didn’t like them, quite the opposite, he loved them, they were his second family in all but blood, but tonight he was only here for one of them, for her alone.

He finally reached the last step, his eyes now on the same height as the window, he knew she was waiting in there, as it had been her idea for him to come here tonight in the first place.

So he raised his right hand, trying to still keep his balance as he knocked on the thin glass window, three times, just as they had agreed on, not that it was of any importance, no one else would knock on a third-floor window in the middle of the night in a safe quiet little neighbourhood.

He waited for a second, trying to keep still, even holding his breath so as to not sway too much on the flimsy wooden ladder.

Suddenly the window opened, catching Harry off guard as he stared into the chocolatey dark brown eyes of Ginny who was now sticking her flushed freckled face out of the window, kissing him on the lips sweetly before he could form a single thought in his head.

It was like a million fireworks went off at once, the whole world seemingly coming to a standstill around just the two of them, and Harry felt like he could levitate.

Only that he couldn’t, quite the opposite, he wasn’t levitating, he was falling… …HE WAS FALLING. And before his mind could catch up with what was happening the last thing he heard was a loud muffled scream as he forcefully crashed into a tall rose bush feeling the little thorns violently scrape at his skin he roughly landed on the wet cool dirt, the bush luckily feathering the worst of the fall.

“Harry! Are you alright?” He heard Ginny’s voice so full of worry, somewhere in the back of his head.

He groaned, lifting himself up to his knees, his ears ringing, everything hurt, but in a way, he knew none of the injuries were overly serious, he had gotten off lucky.

He felt tender hands grasp at his shoulders, pulling him up. So he lifted his head and looked into his girlfriend's worried eyes, they were wide open as she checked him over it seemed she barely recognised him for the bruises on his face.

“Harry, did you break something, where does it hurt, oh baby I am so sorry!” The words stumbled from Ginny’s mouth as she seemed plagued by guilt and worry.

“It wasn’t your fault Gin…” He whispered. “I guess I just…” He simply was at a loss for words at her stunning beauty, making Ginny giggle. “You truly are down bad, literally!” But her expression changed to one of worry again. “That doesn’t mean that I am not scared though, are you really alright?”

But Harry didn’t want to worry her, if he wasn’t such a fool, he wouldn't have fallen in the first place, so he forced himself to his feet, pulling a gasping Ginny flush against his body, before simply kissing her deeply, all the pain in his body subsiding, becoming a mere afterthought, an anecdote buried under the mass of their blossoming love.

Ginny quickly melted into him, after her surprise had yielded to burning passion, she kissed him back with such force, he felt like an electrical current of pure light was flowing through them, connecting them, their magic dancing through each other's hearts as it harmonised their bodies, entangling their souls. They were one.

And as time stood still, neither of them noticed how the rose buds around them opened, blossoming into fire-red roses, growing under their light, spurred by their magic.

After they finally pulled apart, no scratch, no bruise, and no injury was left on Harry’s radiating body, mended through their unyielding love, where their magic had connected at once.

He knew their love would prevail over their pain, always and forever.

#ginny weasley #hinny #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry x ginny #fluff #several sunlit daylights #the tortured potters department #fic

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takearisk-xo · 1 month

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so @corneliaavenue-ao3 is hosting a hinny ficfest with a tortured poets department theme…

#polls #the tortured potters department #several sunlit daylights #corneliaavenue #hinny #hinny ficfest

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nena-96 · 14 days

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Here’s another Hinny fic for @corneliaavenue-ao3

The Tortured Potter’s Department

Clara Bow <- ao3 or read below!

Fluffy/humor

Harry was not a jealous bloke.

Alright, fine! Maybe he was jealous but who wouldn’t be?

His wife of three years was currently talking to the new rising Quidditch Seeker, of the HolyHead Harpies…..Clara Bow.

Before you say anything, he wasn’t jealous that Ginny was talking to Bow. Please, he was a better Seeker than Bow, if you asked him.

Alright, fine, so maybe he never helped win the Quidditch Word Cup, but that’s just because he torn his ACL and decided to become the DADA professor at Hogwarts. Which in his opinion was a much better career than being a seeker for Quidditch.

He’s changing the lives of his students, dammit! It wasn’t like he was out on the field or in this case at the Quidditch Awards Gala trying to steal someone’s wife, like little Miss Bow.

Clara Bow. What type of name is that? His name was much cooler than Bow. What kind of name is that? Does it mean she’s going to bow out the Gala and away from flirting with his Ginny?

He wasn’t blind….well he did have bad eyesight but even he could see that the seeker was trying to seek his wife’s attention all night! It had absolutely nothing to do with Quidditch at all, and everything to do with how beautiful Ginny looked in that backless red dress that she had on.

Fuck.

He shouldn’t remind himself how good she looks in that dress. It definitely wasn’t the time or the place to have his little (not so little, thank you very much) “Potter” pop up, as if it was asking, “is she close by?”

He needed to focus on something other than the constellation of freckles that his wife, Ginny had

all over her back. It was easier said than done, because at this very moment Clara Bow walked up to his wife, and had the audacity to place her hand in the center of her back.

Oh, did he mention that Ginny is his wife? If not, he should probably head down and remind Bow to keep her pesky little claws away from Mrs Potter. Except that wouldn’t be a wise move, since there were too many reporters here and he didn’t want to be featured on the front page of the Daily Prophet.

The-Boy-Who-Lived lost his wife to

HolyHead Harpie Seeker Clara Bow?

(read the exclusive on page 13)

That's the last thing he wanted, which is why he was by the bar, nursing a glass of Firewhiskey. When suddenly he heard a growling sound, it was odd. He placed his glass on the bar counter and turned his head to try and hear where that noise was coming from. Except, all he saw was other Quidditch players chatting amongst one another.

It was strange he could have sworn he heard a growling noise…..fuck it was him. To be more specific it was his ‘‘chest monster.’

In the words of his wise best mate, Ron Weasley, who also happened to be his best man for his wedding….Bloody Hell!

All this time he thought he had control over that monster that lurked inside him. He never felt this was before in years, and it was all thanks to-

“Harry! There you are, I wanted you to meet Clara Bow. She’s fantastic, truly one of the best seekers to have ever lived.”

Best seeker to ever live? In what world because not in this one?

Harry turned and saw both Ginny and Bow standing in front of him. Quickly he gave a fake smile as he lifted up his hand to shake Bow’s. “Oh, yes. Miss Bow it’s a…pleasure to meet you, I can’t say that I’ve seen you play before.” He grimaced the moment he let go of her hand.

That was a bold faced lie, because she was literally on the same team as his wife.

“Oh! That’s uhm, alright.” Clara laughed a bit awkwardly as if to diffuse the tension that was now clouding all around them. “Maybe you’ll be able to catch the game?”

“Yes, that would be great,” he said while trying to avoid the knowing look that Ginny was sending his way.

#Hinny #several sunlit daylights #the tortured potters department #Ginny Weasley #Harry Potter #Ginny x Harry #Harry x Ginny #nena writes #humor

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merlinsbudgiesmugglers · 17 days

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I fully and completely blame @starlingflight for my very swift (haha, get it) transformation into a swiftie

Apparently all it took was a Tedromeda themed T-Swift playlist and a TTPD hinny fic idea and I'm hooked

#severalsunlitdaylights #the tortured potters department

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thenicestthingiveseen · 14 days

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can't have a conversation if it's not all about you (Down Bad) // playlist

fic 2 of 2 for @corneliaavenue-ao3's The Tortured Potters Department (Several Sunlit Daylights Version)

Hallie's had crushes before. Absolutely embarrassing, can't-speak-in-front-of-them crushes. But this doesn't feel like that.

#i spoiled the last two chapters of chaos but i dont care #there will still be other surprises #several sunlit daylights #the tortured potters department #i want every one to make a big deal that the word count is 1113

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thestarsarebrightertonight · 3 days

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but daddy i love him! // theodore nott x fem granger reader

playlist : but daddy i love him - taylor swift

summary : being hermiones slightly younger , less intelligant and more reblellious sister, it is your duty to have a boyfriend no one approves of to match.

y/n used , gryffindor granger reader , swearing

masterlist

"merlin hes so hot" you whined with you head in your hand , staring across the hall at theodore nott.

hermione shuddered in disgust , "yeah and hes a terrible person."

"mione hes really not , just because hes slytherin doesnt mean hes some kind of horrific monster," you rolled your eyes , finally looking away from theodore and looking at hermione across from you.

"dont mix your delusion with reality y/n. him and his friends have bullied us since first year," hermione snapped back.

"whos us? ive never been teased by him before but stay safe i guess," you argued , getting more annoyed by the second.

"you cant be with him y/n , not only does he not do relationships , clearly , hes not good for you!"

"oh but daddy i love him!" you said in a mocking childish tone.

"did you just call hermione daddy?" ron cringed inbetween his quick eating.

"its a little mermaid reference ronald." you said sternly , judging the boys messy consumption of the food on his full plate.

"whats a little mermaid reference?" he mocked.

you, hermione and harry all looked at him with pure shock , forgetting ron wasnt really accustomed to muggle films , "please educate your man mione."

she gasped in pure horror as ron pretened to gag , they both argued over eachother throwing loud defenses and digs at eachother.

"look! i would actually rather die than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning!!" you shouted over them , silencing their arguing as harry nodded along with your statement.

"y/n i dont mean to stir the pot but i dont really think nott is a great partner either," ron said with disgust.

"thanks for that ron! wanna add your two cents harry? seems like everyone cares who i have silly crushes on nowadays!" you fumed , turning to the twins who sat on the table besides you , "good morning george , fred, would you like to give your opinion on theodore nott?"

"hate him," fred stated plainly.

"i always target him in quidditch," george quickly followed with a shrug as you let out a defeated groan.

you turned back to the trio , crossing your arms in anger , "im going to go see ginny , see what she thinks of all this , she always supports me unlike you little goblins!"

"yeah cause ginny has a crush on basically every guy," ron scoffed.

"atleast ginny can admit when she has feeling for someone and doesnt pine on her best friend for years! atleast she isnt in denail!" you said smugly as hermione and ron squirmed in discomfort , blushing.

you abruptly stood up from the table , beginning to stomp away when harry shouted after you , "have a great day mrs nott!"

you turned to look at him , flipping him off before shouting back , "aw you too mr weasley!".

harry blushed as ron looked between the two of you , "shes insane , calling you weasley , what weasley could you possibly marry!"

ron scoffed and continued eating his food as harry scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and exchanged a look with hermione.

---

you now found yourself storming the corridors , looking for ginny when someone fell into step besides you , their deep voice making you shudder.

"hello mrs nott."

you stopped in you tracks and looked besides you in horror , theodore smirked down at you.

"erm hi," you mumbled quietly , face deep red in embarrassment. how could you forget the whole time that theodore had been sat with his friends on the table across from you?!

"dont go all shy on me now , i liked how you defended me." he smirked.

"i was really just joking dont get excited ," you teased , finally shaking your shyness.

"didnt sound like a joke to me? you got really worked up granger," he still held his smug expression , eyes peircing yours even when you didnt look back.

"look nott , i just like picking fights with them its funny to tease them." you shrugged continuing your walk as theodore followed still looking at you the whole time.

"go out with me," he said sternly as you paused again.

"are you being serious?" you said trying to seem not as interested as you truly were.

he grabbed your hand and pulled you to the empty classroom besides you , pushing you against the door to shut it.

he put one hand beside your head on the door and the other playing with your hair and grazing your cheekbone , "dead serious."

you looked at him , finally silent for the first time in your life , your silence allowing him to continue , "you can say you dont like me all you want. that its jokes , that its just to get a reaction. but i think we both know its more than that."

"im not gonna be one of your girls nott , im not like that. sure i have a different type to my sister but that doesnt mean i go for fucking man whores who just wanna get me in their bed."

"ouch , your words hurt me, bella. ive never touched a single girl asides from you. ive waited for you." he said softly.

"basically every person in this school says otherwise nott."

his hand that was resting on the door cleched into a first tightly , "stop calling me nott. its theo to you."

"why do you care?" you asked as his frustration grew.

he stared at you now with cold eyes , danger in them like he was staring at his prey. you simply looked back , folding you arms and watching as his eyes flicked down your face.

"dont play hard to get. you practically announced your love for me a second ago y/n." he mumbled.

"sure. ill go out with you, charity work." you joked as he finally dropped his anger and laughed.

"i like it by the way," he said looking up with a smirk as you stared back with confusion , " 'mrs nott,' it suits you."

"hm i dont know. ive always been kinda progressive , mr granger," you smirked before pushing him away with one hand and walking out of the classroom, leaving him to stare at your figure.

the second you found ginny you practically screamed in her face with excitement , "ginnny you will not BELIEVE IT!!"

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allamericanb-tch · 6 days

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james “fuck it if i can’t have him” potter and regulus “i might just die it would make no difference” black

#taylor swift #marauders #the tortured poets department #jegulus #james potter #regulus black

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messervixen · 11 days

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“The Black Dog”

“The Prophecy”

“Peter”

Okay Taylor that’s enough feeding the theories for one day-

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letraspal · 7 days

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Forgive me, Peter

My lost fearless leader

In closets like cedar

Preserved from when we were just kids

Is it somethin' I did?

#james potter #peter pettigrew #prongs #wormtail #fanart #never a Peter apologist #ttpd #Peter #the marauders #the tortured poets department #marauders #illustration

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prongsiepotter · 3 days

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down bad | j. potter

summary: you're so in love with james potter but he's a little too good at giving you mixed signals that it might actually ruin you

pairing: james potter x reader

warnings: angst, a little fluff if u squint, and so much longing & yearning. omg so much of it

a/n: i am unfortunately completely obsessed with taylor swift's new album, so everything i'll write in the near future will be based on one of the ttpd songs (yey!) & this one's based on 'down bad.' feel free to send requests if u want pick the next song for me x

──────── 𑁍︎ ‧₊°

"So he just said no?" Mary all but hisses. Marlene shushes her, glancing around the classroom before leaning down from where she's sitting on your desk.

"Are you sure it didn't mean something else?" She rests her hand on yours. "Maybe it was just a misunderstanding. He wouldn't…he just wouldn't, right?" You smile weakly at her, then shake your head. She squeezes your hand.

"The note was pretty clear," you say with a soft sigh. The sentence rolls off your tongue with unhidden bitterness. "Sorry, can't. Need to catch up on some assignments."

You would show it to them, so they could see for themselves and maybe divert their sympathetic gazes from you. But you had set it on fire right after reading it, just like the other two notes friendly rejecting you. You still aren't sure why you did it. After all, you did just tell Mary and Marlene that you're fine. At least you will be. You should not be this devastated over some guy.

Even if that guy is James Potter.

James who is now strolling into the room with his mates, looking as invincible and full of life as he always has and always will.

Quickly, you force a smile at the girls and pull out the chair next to you. Marlene, bless her, gets the hint and lightly shoves Mary's shoulder to have her take the seat. You're going through your book bag, pulling out your inkwell when four bodies make their way past your desk.

"Ladies," comes Sirius cheerfully loud voice as he bows at the waist because, of course, he does. Peter and Remus aren't as dramatic with their greetings. The latter, however, does take the time to slow down in front of you until you look up and return his kind smile. Belatedly, you realise perhaps you shouldn't have done that. You lock eyes with James, who's right behind him.

He sends you an easy smile and a wink. Like he's letting you in on another one of his rare secrets. You're not sure if you're smiling back, but it's almost a given that you are.

He takes his seat behind you, laughing blithely at a joke Pete just told, and it's all so painfully charming that you want to die. You fear he will always make you feel like this. Like you're somehow the chosen one. It's such a sickening feeling, you can't help but whip around and look at Mary, pleadingly. Though, you're not sure what you're pleading for anymore.

She shoots you another unbearably sympathetic smile, looking like she's close to cooing at you. You sigh, hiding your face in the crook of your arms.

You can't help but think how easy it would be to just cry right here. It's embarrassing to admit, but you've done it plenty of times over the weekend after you had seen James out at Hogsmeade with the others. Miserably, you had realised that he was, in fact, not too busy working on his assignments. He just didn't want to spend time with you.

You almost let out a sob.

A hand rubs your back and you know it can only be Mary, but you let yourself believe that it's the universe consoling you, as if to say there, there because there's nothing fair about this and she knows it, but there's nothing she can do it about now, can she?

History of Magic passes in a blur. Before you know it, you're in the library, pouring all of yourself into an essay that you normally couldn't have cared less for. But you're willing to do whatever it takes to keep yourself busy. You know your thoughts will stray the moment you're lying quietly in bed anyway, awaiting another sleepless night.

You finish the sentence and look up, satisfied with your work. Apparently it's been a while since you've torn your gaze away from the parchment before you, seeing how stiff your neck is. You knead at the uncomfortable knot in your shoulder while looking around the library. It's relatively full today with every other seat being taken.

Which makes it all the more irritating when your gaze snatches on a figure sat at the other table right across from you. He's not even looking up, head bent over a book, but you would recognise that mop of unruly dark curls anywhere. James must've seen you when he came in, but that might have just been your hopeful self speaking.

Begrudgingly, you resume your writing and it takes everything in you not to look up every few minutes. To glimpse the slight furrow in his brows and the small pout of his lips as he's carefully reading every paragraph. You know he's likely looking for something to prepare for a prank. Normally, you would simply go over and ask him what he's up to. You know he'd happily tell you. But you're glad to have at least a little bit of pride and dignity left that keeps you rooted in your spot.

Seemingly not enough though since all you can think about is that there's no way he doesn't know that you're right there. It really does make you want to bang your head against the table. Maybe that would finally catch James' attention.

Pathetically, you glance at him only to notice that he's packing his things to leave. The tip of your feather goes back to the parchment so fast, it almost pierces it. You haven't got a clue what you're writing, too busy tracking James' movements from the corner of your eyes.

You watch him stand up, walking down the length of his table towards the door down the hall on his right. Then he stops. You hold your breath. James seemingly hesitates before fixing the strap of his bag on his shoulder. He turns left and walks towards you. You're staring at your hand as it writes illegible words, completely out of your control, when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

"Hey," James whispers when you look up, giving you a familiar grin and small wave. It's an innocent gesture, sweet, but there's almost something hostile about this encounter. Like you have no choice but to let him occupy every single one of your senses. You stare up at him, a matching smile sweeping over your lips before you can think better of it.

That's when you notice the scarf he's wearing and its frizzled ends. It's yours. You know it is.

Did he not give it back to you after one of your nights out together on the stands? After you had flown on your brooms, so close to the sea of stars that you could've dipped your fingertips in them? You could almost hear the echoes of your windblown laughters as the memory pushes itself into the foreground of your mind.

James is sitting still, rosy-cheeked, watching you with curious eyes while you babble on about the Leo constellation. He had just told you that you could do whatever you want to him—another quite maddening thing to casually say to someone—and now he's apparently keen on staying true to his word by letting you wrap your scarf around his neck.

It took some convincing before he'd finally accepted it from you. You promised that you wouldn't be cold with your high collared sweater, but James only gave in when you had accepted his wool hat in exchange.

He had carefully put it on you, smoothing down your hair and pulling out some loose strands to frame your face, mumbling something about how much lovelier his hat looked on you than on him. You told yourself that he surely must've known what it did to you when his knuckles brushed your cheeks. Right? Surely.

James pokes your side, chuckling, as if he sensed that your mind was drifting elsewhere. He cracks another joke, saying that if you were the one to teach him Astronomy, he might actually pay attention in class. He says it like it's a deal and you feel inclined to do whatever it takes to hold up your side of the bargain.

You laugh helplessly, feeling drunk on a little bit of everything; the stars above, James' gentle laughter, the familiar smell of broom wax and crisp winter air. This must be cosmic love, you think to yourself. Your breath clouds in front of you, becoming one with his. All the while, you're too aware of James' shoulder bumping into you, his leg pressed against yours. There's no one out here but you two.

You have all the room in the world, but James chose to sit this close to you. Probably close enough for him to hear your heart pounding. Did he do it for a reason? You'd love to know.

"You don't need me to pay attention in Astronomy," you find yourself saying in response, something daring laced in the drawl of your voice. His eyes flash, bright and a bit wild. It's the same look he gets after you challenge him to a race on your brooms. His grin grows wide, carefree, and oh so lovely.

"Please." His face comes impossibly closer and you lean in without another thought, eager to take whatever it is James will give you. You feel his breath on your lips.

"I will always need you, Y/N."

Somehow he makes it sound genuine.

Then he winks and leaves you a horrid, forsaken mess. Somehow he makes that feel like a nice gesture too.

Incredulously, you stare at him as he leans back, elbows resting on the seats behind him. James Potter, you think weakly, what are you doing to me? Not for the first time you ponder what you would do if you can't have him. You almost double over from the striking pain in your chest.

Then he points out another constellation and you nearly forget all about yourself. He's good at that. Never ceasing to show you that the world is bigger than the two of you. Making you forget and remember that you might be in love. Because what if you were in love?

James cups the back of his neck, then points towards the door of the library, almost shyly letting you know that he's leaving. You nod slowly, still dazed. A small smile crosses his lips before you watch him round the corner, his back disappearing from your sight.

You blink, letting out a ragged breath. You feel like you got the wind knocked out of you. Like you just lost your twin. Someone who knows you like no one else ever will. Someone who might just be your better half. Someone who sometimes makes you feel like they want nothing to do with you.

It's ridiculous, you think bleakly to yourself, you're so down bad.

And James Potter makes it feel like a curse and a blessing.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter fanfiction #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #marauders fanfiction #marauders #taylor swift #ttpd #the tortured poets department

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