#ves.writes harry potter | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ladyvesuvia · 3 years

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babe- yes. nobody's stopping you. do it. oh your asking me who? harry. him and you like this in ootp/hbp. ootp were he's tired of everything and snaps at you, and or hbp were he unintentionally ignores you because of the book and you get tired of his 'strange' behavior and you snap at him for not being a good boyfriend- i'll leave it there, you finish it <3

Letdown Countdown

PAIRING: Harry Potter x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: When loving becomes tiring. || kinda based on this scene and this.

WORDS: 4.1k

WARNING(S): cursing, arguments, angst

A/N: lyn, baby, thank you for this request. i needed angst. i’m so sorry this took long but here it is jsjdiw i hope it’s what you had in mind ;)) || also experimenting with a different writing style kfjrieiw

[NAVIGATION] [MASTERLIST]

It’s ten o’clock in the morning.

It’s a good day. She sees the disheveled boy in the doorway, his eyes watching everyone in the room curiously and all logic goes out and her arms are around him, tears of relief streaming down her face as she laughs more to herself than to anyone in particular. He’s angry, his eyes filled with something far from tears — he is furious. Angry, even.

But it’s still a good day, it always will be if he’s within reach. It’s still a good day even when he’s mad. After all, he has every right to be; the luxury of feeling is what the world owes him if not the truth. She could only watch as he said everything he’s been keeping to himself.

It was hard to get him alone the next couple of days, but she finally had the chance on one late night when they both found themselves seated in the table, glasses of water right in front of them.

“You’re a year older,” she says, not wanting to throw him off with the same worried questions everyone’s asked the days before. “I think that’s cool.”

“It’s haunting, really,” he says with a laugh to relieve whatever tension sat between them. “Sorry I was a bit — you know — when I first came back.”

“A bit salty? Yeah, that’s alright,” she says as well, and soon the two laughed together. For her, it wasn’t hard to love Harry. Not when he looked at her in the way she had always wanted to be looked at; not when on the off chance that he does smile, he happens to be the only thing she wanted to see. “Sorry I didn’t write to you — not that I didn’t want to. We weren’t allowed to tell you much, you know.”

She looks at her wristwatch. Surprisingly, nine p.m. has long passed.

“I know, I'm sorry.”

Silence again. She reaches out to hurriedly sip on her glass of water, watching him through the glass end of the cup. He’s staring at the fireplace, seemingly oblivious to her gaze and so she sets down her glass and turns to him with a smile.

“Hey, what’s bothering you?”

He only shakes his head in response and tells her it’s nothing.

“Come on,” she says, digging her hands into her pockets. A lint comes out, and so she searches her other pocket. “Listen,” she starts again, “I’d give you a penny so I could say ‘penny for your thoughts’ and the next best thing would be ‘nickel for your thoughts’ but I only have a sickle so . . . sickle for your thoughts?”

That smile again.

“That surely sounds better than a dime for my thoughts and I normally don’t take prices for my worries but . . . I’ll take it.”

“Perfect,” she says, tossing the tiny coin she got from her pocket to the table. He puts his hand on the coin, sliding it off the edge of the said table and slipping it into his own pocket. “Shoot.”

He talked and she listened — it’s a good day.

She’s there for him, she always is.

Harry and [Y/N]. It’s always been this way for as long as she can remember. Despite the defeats they constantly face, she loves him just as she loves the first time they shared that knowing look in a room full of people. She loves everything, especially the day they became each other's on that one fated night of the Ball, young love being more than just young love. It is love; it is love whenever she catches him looking for no valid reason at all. Love is everything in between.

She loves that he constantly looks after the people around him. She loves that he's spontaneous, that you never know what he's going to do next. She loves that he's hers, just as she's his.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“How many dreams now?” she asks him.

“Eight, give or take.” Harry shifts in his seat, adjusting his glasses to have something to do. She knows it’s more than that.

“You have to keep taking Occlumency with Snape, you have to tell Dumbledore!”

“I always have to do things, don’t I?” he says, but he’s staring at the fireplace, eyes unfocused. There’s no answer to that. At least, none she could answer.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Maybe it's just a trick,” she says in panicked breaths as Harry rummages through his trunk for his cloak. He isn't so fond of this suggestion, and she knows it. “Harry, listen to me.” She reaches out to touch his wrist, but he only shakes it away.

“A trick?” he spats bitterly, facing her with a scowl on his face. “My godfather could die, [Y/N]. Think about it! He might be. . .” She knows what he's worried about. “I just need to check, alright? I need to check. I need to get to that fireplace now. What, I’m s’pposed to let seven days pass and be a helpless child? Just — for once, could you please just let me be? Can you do that just this once?”

She loves that he constantly looks after the people around him, loves that his loved ones are his topmost priority.

There's nothing else she could do, and so she nods. She wants to tell him to not do it, that she could see all the many ways this could go wrong, but she knows he has a clear idea of what he's getting himself into. “Okay,” she says under her breath. “But I want to help.”

He looks like he's about to argue, but he eventually gives in and nods, albeit hesitantly. She could've sworn she saw a shadow of guilt cross his face as they left the common room.

Then came the time for them to ride the thestrals. She could feel all the hair stand up on her neck, but she looks at him and a bit of her fear melts away. She’s beyond terrified, but she trusts him. They exchange a knowing look before leaving, and it was enough to give her the push.

She loves that he's spontaneous, that you never know what he's going to do next.

And they kick off the ground.

They were going to what could possibly be their own deaths, but he isn’t scared, so why should she be?

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

It's a good day again. He's playing with her hands in the comfort of the Burrow as she talks about all the things they couldn’t fit in this different world. She kisses his hand in return, laughing at how his glasses rests askew on the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t want to talk about the events that transpired months ago, and so they do not talk of what happened in the Ministry. He doesn’t want to, and she respects that.

She loves that he's hers, just as she's his.

Now they're in Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. She's walking down the shelves with him for a minute, and he's gone the next. It's okay, she says to herself. He's probably with Ron and Hermione.

She finds it surreal that they're in the same place they’ve always been in years before, only that they’re here for their sixth year. They become older and older but today is similar to their second year; for in the length of Great Hall, he's nowhere to be found, and she's not sure if he wants to be. The answer to this was answered some time later when Harry slipped in accompanied by none other than Professor Snape, who appeared to be taking pride in the pathetic attempt at furtive glances being thrown in the young boy's way. He then takes his seat next to Ron, appearing to be disgruntled.

Later that night, she asks him what's wrong, but he only shakes his head in response. She leaves him be.

On the surface, they're alright. Some may comment on the lack of what was once there, but they appear alright nonetheless; he walks with her shoulder up to shoulder from this class to another, exchanging curt and brief words with each other. We are alright, she keeps telling herself more often than she should. We’re alright.

“See? I told you you’re meant to be an Auror,” she tells him after finding out about his success. “You never listen to me, Potter.”

He just nods, but she doesn’t mind. His head’s on her shoulder, and who is she to complain? She strokes his hair gingerly, feeling his breathing on her arm. She lets her hand fall down to touch his, and she plays with five of his fingers.

They’re the only people in the Gryffindor common room, and possibly in the whole world for the only sound she could hear was the steady flickering of the flames. It’s a good night.

It’s their first class with Slughorn, and she watches curiously as he hands Harry and Ron secondhand books. She thinks about the Felix Felicis and how little she could make out of it. Harry seems to think otherwise; she tries to catch his eye in hopes of asking how he’s doing but he’s only focused on his own cauldron.

She watches him.

She watches as he grins in triumph over his prize. Hermione doesn’t seem pleased, and Ron is curious more than ever, and so is she.

She wants to ask him about the book, but knew pushing it any further wouldn’t end up well. They’ve been together ever since that lovely fateful night of the Yule Ball, but they’ve been friends long before; long enough to know he wants to be alone.

Harry comes back tired in every time he returns from Dumbledore’s office, a weight on his shoulders always heavier than the last time. Maybe it’s far too heavy for him to do so much as smile. She lets this slide as she walks with him side by side on their way to Potions again.

“Didn’t you get your new book today?”

“Hm? Oh, er — yeah. Right here.” He holds up the book to her eyes. She sees the yellowed paper edges of the book, but doesn’t bother to mention it. If he wants to tell her, he will.

Whenever that is.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Sickle for your thoughts?” she asks, holding out a small coin during that dreadful night after the Katie Bell incident. Harry only shakes his head, staring at the fireplace. She drops the coin on the table, throwing a scowl at the book for Potions as she prepared to take her leave.

“Where’re you going?” Harry asks. “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” she answers. “Just tired.”

“I’m tired, too,” he says in a tone she assumes is accusatory. “I just want a break from all of this but I can’t.”

She wants to say more, but doing so would make it all real. “I know, Harry,” she says. “I know.”

She’s about to leave but he stands up from the couch to wrap his arms around her and press a kiss on her hair. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” she says with a sigh, raising her hand to stroke his arm.

He doesn’t answer this question, possibly out of knowing it isn’t wise to do so, but she thinks it’s far from that. She knows he doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for, but she lets him talk. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to, it’s okay.” It isn’t. She could tell him right now that she’s tired of this and everything else in between, but she doesn’t. Her lips tremble as she talks, as if this alone is the most tiring moment of her life. She breaks away from him, not looking him in the eye as she bid him goodbye. “Goodnight, Harry. Sweet dreams.”

She tossed and turned in her bed until four in the morning when she realized there’s no hope in trying to sleep.

She keeps her eyes glued to the ceiling, but this is all for naught. It turns out telling yourself everything otherwise is a waste of good time, for it does nothing to keep her thoughts at bay.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The days pass by quickly, and the only thing she finds herself doing is watching the three of her friends fall apart. Harry kept to himself, but never away from that book.

It’s alright, she tells herself for the umpteenth time. He needs space. But just how much does he need?

As Lavender Brown walks past, she couldn’t help but envy the girl. Her and Ron are always on each other’s faces, and although it isn’t pleasing to look at, she wishes to have what they have. She used to have that with Harry, maybe even better. Oh, for sure it was better, and it was always a good day.

When was the last time they talked?

No, she shouldn’t question anything. He’s just busy with his noble quests and all that.

She wouldn’t add up to his piles and piles of problems, and so she only silently glides into the couch occupied by none other than Harry himself, sitting down next to him. They’re staring at the fireplace as if it’s the only thing living in the world.

“Sickle for your thoughts?” she asks with a smile.

“Not right now,” he tells her, not even looking her way. He doesn’t see her eyes reddening, her throat locking, tears threatening to dance of their own accord down to her cheeks. He only sees her nod as she slips away once more, only this time he doesn’t call after her.

There’s no easy way to tell a story such as this: She cries; she cries for the young love she thought she had. She weeps for the fun they had. It’s death without a funeral, death of a love she had yet to learn. But then again, it’s only puppy love, is it not? Isn’t that what they call it?

The girl wipes her tears away.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

He’s running, sweat trickling down from his temple to his neck. He rushes to Ron, asking to borrow his book.

“Harry?”

He immediately stuffs Ron’s copy of their book for Potions inside his bag.

“Harry,” she says in an attempt to catch his attention.

“What now?”

She flinches, but she doesn’t stop. “What happened?”

“This spell, I tried it and — just — I can’t explain it!”

“Is this from your Prince guy again? Harry, I told you this was never—”

“Never a good idea. Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

“Harry,” she breathes, and Ron’s watching them uncomfortably. Harry doesn’t even spare her a look before leaving. He simply dashes out of the room, bag in hand, his cloak dancing behind him.

The next time he saw him was the night after Gryffindor won, and they were seated once again in the common room, just the two of them like always.

She’s doing an essay for Potions on the table.

“I just remembered it’s our anni—” He takes a seat across from her, and she immediately stands up, the chair creaking backward. He looks up at her with a confused expression.

She begins to pack her stuff: Her quill, her ink, her half-filled parchment paper, her—

“[Y/N],” he starts. “[Y/N], what’s wrong?”

She doesn’t respond.

Her wristwatch tells her it’s one in the morning. The number one; it’s quite possibly the saddest number to exist, not even zero itself could amount to how alone one is. To be nothing would be better than to be alone, and she was every bit as deserted as the number one is.

“[Y/N], what’s your problem? Tell me,” he says, following her as she begins to shut her bag close. He takes her copy of Advanced Potion Making from the table, for she seems to have forgotten about it. “[Y/N], you forgot your—”

She snatches the book from him. “I know.”

“What’s your problem? [Y/N], you’re making me look like a fool here. [Y/N], what? What do you want? What, you’re tired? You want out?” He continues to follow her, his voice raising. “Come on, tell me. Are you tired? Do you want to end this right now? Do you—”

“Yes!” she spats in a fit of anger, her eyes bloodshot. “Harry, I am very, very tired!”

“What, you think I’m not? I lost people I love, [Y/N]. This whole thing is bigger than us whether you like it or not — I DON’T. You think we could have a normal relationship in a normal world? Think again!”

“This is the problem with you — you never want to let people in because—”

“Because I feel responsible for them, [Y/N]! Don’t you see? They’re throwing this Chosen One crap on me and expect me to save everyone and if I can’t, I’m the bad guy. And my friends! You, Ron, Hermione — every single person I know isn’t safe! And I hate that I can’t do anything about it, now will you please just. . .”

But she’s not listening anymore. She only watches as he continues on talking until she couldn’t take it anymore. She raises her hand, slapping him across the face.

It was silent once more.

"You don't see this working out, don't you?" she breathes out.

She loved that he constantly looks after the people around him. She loved that he's spontaneous, that you never know what he's going to do next.

She hiccups, and she couldn’t catch her breath. She doesn’t know what to say, and her lips are talking on its own accord. “Why can’t you take care of yourself for once? Why do you always have to be the stupid hero? What, you can’t ask me how I’m doing, can’t remember what this day means to us but this!” Laughing mirthlessly, she waves the book in front of him and begins to hit it against the couch beside her repetitively. “You always have time for this — stupid — fucking — book! This stupid prince of yours! Now look where it got you!”

She throws the book onto the floor stomping on it as she cried. She doesn’t care if she looked like a mere child throwing a tantrum. She’d been holding this back long, long ago.

“That’s your book,” he says, pointing it out as he puts his hand up to his cheek.

“Of course it is, because you just had to hide your own, don't you? Because it’s so precious to you!” She couldn’t breathe.

She leaves her items on the floor and storms to the couch, her hands obscuring her face. It was silent for a long while.

“Are you tired?” he asks, gently this time.

She nods, sniffing.

“Do you want out?”

“Harry,” she chokes out, her breath hitching. “I feel like” — she coughed — “I feel like I’m wasting my time on this. Like it’s more of a chore than something I want to do.”

“You don’t love me anymore?” he says under his breath, still not moving from the spot from which she had slapped him. He's not sure if he wants to know.

She wipes the tears from her face, turning around from her seat to look at him. She looks back down on the floor. Merlin, she must be looking like a mess right now.

“I love you, Harry,” she says. It doesn't help that this is the first time she's ever told him this, and looking down on the floor in an attempt to avoid him doesn’t make it any easier. “I love you more than anything I’ve ever loved, but I’m just so tired. I loved that you're mine and I'm yours but Merlin's beard, nothing has ever been this tiring before. I’m tired of telling everyone we know that everything is well, tired of assuring myself that every time we see each other maybe by some miracle you’d try a little bit harder — just a little bit — but I'm just tired of. . .everything.”

“Are you tired of me?”

She doesn’t answer, but he has a feeling he knows the answer to this. He watches her curiously as her back shudders from the crying.

“Do you want to end this now?”

She’s doesn’t answer again, and he takes her silence as a yes.

"Do you want out?"

"Please, just go," she says in between her sobs. "Please go."

“Consider it done.” He bends down to fix her stuff on the floor and with one last look at her, he swallows the lump forming in his throat, making his leave, leaving her alone until she fell asleep with the dancing flames emanating from the fireplace her only company for the night.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

It's her turn to walk down the aisle and as she does so, she makes sure to not look at the groom's Best Man who, on the other hand, couldn't tear his eyes away from the girl approaching his end. He thinks of how different things could've been. . .

She stands not so far away from where Hermione will stand, and across from her is Harry himself. For once, she's glad Ron is tall enough to obscure him from view, but she keeps her eyes trained to the arch nonetheless, waiting for Hermione to walk in in a dainty and beautiful white dress. The Burrow's still, the tall grass dancing along.

Hermione walks the length of the dolled up lawn of the Burrow. It's a good day; everyone wears smiles on their worn out faces, for all the events that had occurred a while back has taken its toll on them, but here they all stand.

By the time Hermione reached the end, [Y/N] kept her eyes glued to Hermione this time, more than happy for her best friend.

Later at the reception, music played and as per request from the groom's mother, one of Celestina Warbeck's songs. All the people stood up to dance except for a pair in a certain table, both parties of which shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

And a sudden thought occurred to her: Maybe, just maybe, one doesn’t have to be a sad number. Their eyes meet for the first time in a long time, and it’s one of a kind; the now is not as unfortunate and bitter as it once was.

It’s just the two of them in the table, but it’s comfortingly familiar. He stands up from his seat to occupy the vacant chair beside her.

“Sickle for your thoughts?” he asks, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips.

“That sounds better than a dime for my thoughts and I normally don’t take prices for my worries but I’ll take it.”

He tosses a tiny coin on the table. She puts her hand over it, pulling it over the edge and holding it out in front of herself. “This isn’t a sickle,” she tells him, showing him the nickel.

“Well, ‘Nickel for your thoughts’ doesn’t sound right anymore because I got too used to the first one.”

“Me too,” she says. “I got used to it, too.”

“Well? I paid you a Nickel. Where’s my purchased thought?” he teases, and they’re both laughing just like they just did not so long ago. Just as they’re used to the sentiment of the Sickle, they’re used to each other; seeing the other smile, making the other smile, just. . .each other.

“Well, I was just thinking about how lonely it is to simply sit among a busy crowd."

He stands up, adjusting his tie as he did so. He then offers his hand to her. “Er — dance?” he says, quoting what he'd said long, long ago at the Yule Ball.

“Dance,” she replies, taking his hand without a second thought, and they just danced just like everyone else. From a distance, they'd only notice the main stars of the day — the groom and the bride. But between Harry and [Y/N], they're the only people once more. Nobody says anything, and both did not mind the other's company.

They don't speak of the times they almost lost each other, nor of the time they gave up on what they had, no. Because right now, as far as anyone's concerned, the only thing to say is that it's a good day — better, even.

And hopefully there'd be more to come.

A/N: kvlsjlvjwwo omfg finally finished this!!! i hope y’all paid attention to the numbers hAHAHAHAHA u can kinda tell i rushed the ending i’m sorry

Taglist: @gingerale2017 @maybanksslut @hey-there-angels @mrzweasley @gwlvr @booksarealwaysbettersworlds-blog @greenlyblue @henqtic @badass-yn @meiitanoia @gaycatlord-stuff @awakendevildays @crazy-beautiful @mistress-riddle @adoreyou976 @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts @rowena-ravenclaws-diadem @sfdlm

#ves.writes #ves.writes harry potter #harry potter #harry potter x reader #hjp #harry james potter #harry potter x fem!reader #harry potter x reader angst #harry potter x y/n #harry james potter angst #hjp angst #harry potter angst #harry potter headcanon #harry potter imagines #harry potter x fem reader #harry potter x fem!reader angst #harry potter masterlist #harry james potter masterlist #hp

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ladyvesuvia · 3 years

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@justadreamyhufflepuff: GSJSVSKSBSJD BABY CONGRATS- CAN I PLEASE GET A 🎠 -> Harry potter + soft love + fluff + prompts 9, 10, 32, 42 from prompt list 1. || for my 300 followers celebration

Prompts:

9. “You took all the pillows so I’m using you as one.”

10. “Stop moving and let me braid your hair.”

32. “Make a wish!”

42. “Darling I love you and all, but please step out of the kitchen.”

Pairing: Harry Potter x Fem!Reader

Summary: Moving into your new house with Harry.

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: fluff but with slight and subtle mentions of sexual activities + let me know if i missed anything!

A/N: omg yay harry fluff :DDD ok sorry go ahead btw this hasn’t been proofread yet mbad

After years of setting things up, they could finally move into their house. Of course, there were some parts of it that still needed fixing but they’ll eventually work it out. Right now, they wanted to bask in the comfort and triumph of their own house.

“Got your key?” said [Y/N], holding out her own key. She had already attached a duck keychain to it.

“Got it,” replied Harry, showing her his own. They both sniggered at his ridiculous bathtub keychain, which looked undeniably out of place but she was glad for it nonetheless. See, she had bought it years ago when they first talked about getting a house. “Will you do the honors?”

“You know, we could easily Alohomora the heck out of this bas —”

“Do the honors,” he teasingly urged, poking her on the waist where her tickle spot was and she recoiled. “Do it, [Y/L/N].”

“Ha! I’m Potter now, too. Ergo you’re not so special anymore,” she said as she marched up the raised porch. It was a lovely sight indeed — she could already imagine inviting the others to come over: roasting marshmallows either here or at the backyard and such. She giddily walked towards the door. This is it, she thought. “Wait, this is unfair. You carry me as you open it so I’ll be like a pretty wife.”

“That you are,” said Harry as he scooped her up into his arms. She let out a whoop of approval, patting his cheek as he put the key in and swung the door open.

All their boxes were on the floor already, with a lot more scattered all over the house. “Ooh, this is a lot of work. Wanna sleep it off?” she yawned, kicking some boxes aside on her way to the stairs. “What, you gonna protest, Mr. Potter?”

“Not at all, Mrs. Potter,” said Harry, and they both stopped and looked at each other, eyes narrowed while scrutinizing the name. “Mrs. Potter.”

“Does it sound a bit weird to you? I mean, no offense. I mean, I’ve waited for this half of my life but — you know?

“Yeah, like, [Y/N] Potter,” he said again, making arm gestures as if parting a curtain. She started to laugh. “I see what you mean.”

“You look like a . . . getching shooba driver but on land,” she said with a yawn.

“A what?” This time, Harry was the one stifling his laughter.

“Glitching scuba diver on land,” spat [Y/N], taking off her jacket. When she saw he’d been eyeing her with a dazed expression on his face, she made a show of getting off her right jacket sleeve with a suggestive smile on her face. “Wait, uh, can’t get it off. Sweat, I think. Help?”

“Will do, will do,” said Harry, approaching her and reaching out to pull it off her with a tight smile in an awful attempt to keep his laughter.

“Whatever. Can we sleep now, please? Where’s our bed again?”

“There,” he pointed somewhere in the kitchen room.

“I thought our room was upstairs?”

“Our room is upstairs, the bed is here.”

“Why would that be the ca—oh, no. D’we really have to assemble it?” she whined. They had to travel by Muggle transportation due to issues with the Floo network and they wanted to minimize suspicion, and the it was finally taking its toll on their entire energy: [Y/N]’s back was cramping from the long ride, Harry’s head was already hurting like hell. To make matters worse, neighbors were peeking through their windows so they had to go inside immediately.

“No, we can just bring the mattress up and assemble it all tomorrow, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said with a moan, tossing the jacket on the kitchen counter. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Oh, are we — ?” He shrugged hesitantly.

“No! I mean, do you want to? Now?”

“Do you?” The two chuckled nervously. They were standing there for probably around half a minute or one when the doorbell dinged and the two of them jumped. [Y/N] volunteered to get it.

A woman younger than her for about a year stood in front of her doorstep when she swung the door open, carrying a tiny baby probably about a few months old in her arms. [Y/N] managed a friendly smile as she wiped away a drop of sweat from her forehead.

“Hi, welcome to the neighborhood. I’m Karolina Martin. I live right across and I brought you something!”

“The . . . baby?” [Y/N]’s shoulders tensed as she thought about this over an over until she realized that was highly unlikely.

“No! You’re hilarious, though. I like you. I actually came here to give you” — the woman put down a bag she hung over her shoulder down on the floor — “this.”

Inside was a basket with a bottle of what [Y/N] could only assume was fine wine or champagne or whatever it was couples with a number of chocolates and cookies inside. She realized with a start there was also a pot inside.

[Y/N] laughed, holding up the pot. “Funny, because we’re Potters?” she asked, setting it back down again.

“You are?” Karolina said, impressed. “So which do you suggest I should start with first? Stoneware or earthenware? Ooh, what about fire clay?”

It took a few seconds before [Y/N] realized the direction of the conversation. “Oh! Well, heh, not that kind of potter.”

Karolina flinched, eyeing [Y/N] with suspicion. “You smoke — ?”

“No! Not that kind of potter. We don’t smoke po—Sorry, that’s on me, I should have clarified. I’m [Y/N],” she said. Karolina still looked confused. Composing herself, she managed a tight smile. “[Y/N] Potter.”

“Oh! Oh, my goodness. I’m so sorry!” Karolina chuckled. “I was a bit confused, I’m really sorry. I haven’t met someone around here about my age.”

“Don’t worry about it. Thanks for the welcoming gift, by the way. I just moved in with my . . . husband.” It still sounded surreal to call Harry that way, but she liked it all the same. Her eyes fell on the chubby little kid.

“Right! This is baby Sydney, she’s turning six months old next week. Would be really nice if you and your husband could come — and kid or kids, if you have some?” Maybe it was the coos the baby made or her adorable eyes and hints of two teeth growing, but [Y/N] felt intimidated by the little kid. She was bigger than she thought babies would be. Is this what she’d push through her bottom? She shuddered. “Do you . . . want to hold her?” asked Karolina, oblivious to the thoughts going on in [Y/N]’s heads.

“Listen, I’m really grateful you stopped by but we’re kinda tired. I’m so, so, sorry! Thank you a lot for these stuff. We’ll definitely come by next week — me and Harry, just Harry and me.” [Y/N] chuckled nervously again, smiling at the baby.

“I totally understand. Me and Joey were also very tired when we first moved in, hence Sydney.” Karolina laughed. [Y/N] simply chimed in the laughter as well, not wanting to jeopardize a newfound friendship over a joke. “Have a lovely evening, [Y/N]. I’ll see you around!”

When she shut the door with the bag over her shoulder, she jumped in fright at the sight of Harry just behind the door with an amused grin on his face. “What?” said [Y/N] as she rubbed her eyes.

“Husband?” he mused. When she shot him a glare saying not to push it further, he resorted to giggling. “Sorry, my wife.”

“Shut up, Harry,” she said. “Now, where’s that damned mattress?”

“Worry not, I got it upstairs already, all we gotta do now is take a quick shower and go to bed.”

After they finished dressing into more comfortable clothes, they made it a point to plop down as hard as they could on the mattress. To her relief, Harry had settled a plain white bedsheet on top of it earlier while she was talking to Karolina. She was the first to jump in, stretching her legs all over. “Finally!” she exclaimed.

“Your turn,” she said, pointing at a spot right next to her. Harry took off his glasses and was about to jump in next when she asked where the pillows were.

“Er — Accio pillow!” She could hear the sound of boxes moving downstairs bumping each other when a pillow came hurtling in and landed on Harry’s chest, forcing him to plop down on the mattress.

A shrill squeak sounded, and the two of them froze. [Y/N] narrowed her eyes, pointing her finger at him in accusation. “Did you fart?”

“No, we just still haven’t removed the plastic from the mattress.”

“You want to remove it?” she suggested, ready to get up and get her own wand when Harry gently nudged her back down.

“Okay, where’s my wand?“

[Y/N] looked left and right until she found it tying on an old bedside table he managed to set down earlier that day and said, “There! Bedside table.”

“Eh.”

“Agreed, let’s just say you did fart.”

“Agreed,” said Harry, who unconsciously wrapped his legs and arms around the pillow on top of him and closed his eyes to sleep. [Y/N] was quick to act. Not to take his pillow, but to turn him into one — metaphorically, of course. She laughed at the thought of using Transfiguration to turn Harry into a literal pillow.

Just as he wrapped his limbs around the only pillow, [Y/N] did the same to him. He woke up with a jolt, but did not take her off him. “I’m the little spoon?” he asked with a smile.

“Yes, and I happen to like little spoons a lot,” she said casually. Harry turned his head in her direction, with a wide grin on his pretty face. “Okay, that sounded wrong. It’s just that you hogged the only pillow so now I’m using you as one.”

“Well, do you want it?” he offered obliviously.

“Nope, I like this set-up. Go back to sleep.”

And he did — they both did. At some point during the night, they turned each other into a pillow. Harry, however, awoke to the sound of her snoring. It wasn’t like his Uncle Vernon’s, though. Looking at her face seemed to dull it all out. It wasn’t exactly an endearing sound, but the sight of her was more than so — tousled hair, mouth slightly open. . . . With one last smile on his face as he watched her sleep, he felt himself drifting off into a deep slumber.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

A loud clanging from downstairs awoke Harry. Had he overslept? He found that his back ached whenever he did so much as move, but knew better than to bide his time if there was danger nearby. He reached out to the bedside table to grab his wand, but realized he had to put his glasses on first.

Harry ran downstairs, clutching his wand tightly with his outstretched hand as he listened for anything there was to hear. He paused. A stranger walked out of the kitchen, and he pointed his wand at them.

The stranger held their hands up with a bewildered look on their face until [Y/N] came out of the kitchen all sweaty with a frilly apron. “Harry!” she cried in bewilderment at the sight of him pointing his wand at their new neighbor. “Alright, uh, Karolina, this is my husband, Harry; Harry — stop pointing your . . . stick at her — this is our neighbor who lives across from us, Karolina.”

“Er — hello, Karolina. Sorry about the wa—” [Y/N] shot him a dirty look. “—ander. Wander. Sorry about the bad . . . wandering. You know what? I just woke up on the wrong side of bed and I got paranoid with the . . . new house and all.”

“He tends to get jumpy,” said [Y/N] in hopes of wrapping this up immediately. “Anyway, five minutes left till it’s done. Thank you so, so much for the help, Karol! One last thing, for the whipped cream, do I. . .”

He then noticed that some of the furniture were already arranged such as the sofa and the dining table. Some cabinets were decorated with non-magical framed pictures of them. Harry begged to disagree, though. Each picture there was more than just ma— Is that a baby? Sleeping in a car seat on their couch?

Harry blinked. It stirred, eyes fluttering open. Harry was now holding his breath in anticipation. It was watching him curiously. When he did not move, the little thing started to giggle. Smiling sheepishly back, he made a show of raking his hand through his hair and walking into the kitchen.

It was still messy, but the fridge was on now, and some condiments were put where they belonged.

Karolina was washing a bowl on the sink when the baby outside started crying. She washed her hands quick and ran out, excusing herself while smiling apologetically at the two of them.

[Y/N] opened the oven, pulling out something that smelled of a scent that made Harry’s mouth water.

“Is that Treacle Tart?” he blurted out.

[Y/N] almost dropped the pan of delight she held in her mittened hands. She cleared her throat in an attempt to maintain her composure as she set it down on the counter and pulled off her mittens. Still panting, she looked at him and said, “Harry, darling, I love you and all but please step out of the kitchen.”

“Sorry,” he muttered as he pressed a kiss against her head.

“Don’t do that, my hair stinks. I haven’t showered yet,” said [Y/N].

“What do you mean? It smells just fine.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s greasy. Is it greasy?”

“Yeah, you kinda look like Snape from where I’m standing. Ow! Sorry, bad joke. Okay, keep doing what you’re doing while I. . .” he trailed off as he grabbed her wrist gingerly and pulled off the scrunchie off it and started braiding her hair whilst she shook the whipped cream. “Could you just stop moving and let me braid your hair?”

“Oh, shut up! This tart’s for you, anyway.”

“So it is a Treacle Tart?”

“Uh, Doy,” she said mockingly. “It’s for your birthday, genius.”

“But it isn’t till next month,” said Harry.

“Eh, well, thought we could spend some time together in our new house without a crowd for a while. Why’re you even braiding my hair?”

“That baby got me thinking about it,” said Harry, as the child’s sobs started to cease. “You know, like . . . do you think we’re ready?”

“Well, what will be, will be.” She squeezed whipped cream on each side, scanning the final product with narrowed eyes. Harry tied the poorly-done braid with the scrunchie, letting her hair fall down to her back. [Y/N] turned to him. “Honestly, I’m kind of scared about the whole thing, you know? Like, aside from the . . . bloody pushing, it’ll be a huge responsibility. And I want to know if you’re up for it.”

“Okay,” he found himself saying so casually.

“Okay?” [Y/N] repeated to him, with an expression the combination of excitement and disbelief. “Okay as in, ‘okay let’s start trying?’”

“Okay, yes! Let’s start trying now!”

“Okay, but not right now, though,” said [Y/N] under her breath.

“Why not?” he said. Merlin, I have to stop.

“For one, Karolina’s right there at the doorway with Sydney.”

Harry shifted his gaze from [Y/N] to Karolina, who was now trying hard to stifle her laugh with a sleeping Sydney in her arms. “Okay, I’m gonna pretend I didn’t just hear that,” she said with a suggestive smile. “I’ll get going now, [Y/N], Harry.”

“Oh, you won’t try the Treacle Tart out?” called out [Y/N].

“Nah, we’ve eaten a lot of that already. We’re having cheesecake for tonight. Anyway, see you two.” With a friendly wave, she went off her way, leaving the two of them alone in their house.

Harry expected her to berate him, but she was already facing him with a slice of a tart resting neatly on a plate with a lousy candle set in the middle of it. “Make a wish,” she told him.

“Uh. . . I’m bad at wishes, you know that.”

“Then wish to be better at making wishes then make a better wish next month,” she said.

“Okay, I wish to be better at making wishes,” said Harry before blowing the candle out. [Y/N] pulled off the candle and lead him to the living room, where she put down the pan and separated the entire thing to put it on an adorable floral plate she loved.

“Happy super advanced birthday, Just Harry,” said [Y/N], kissing his head this time. “Have some Treacle Tart. I tried, okay?” Laughing, she put a fork on his plate and went to slice one for herself.

“Thank you, soft love,” said Harry as he helped himself to his slice. “Merlin, this is per—”

[Y/N] bursted into laughter, a couple crumbs spitting on the table. She had to get a tissue and wipe the table as she bellowed. “What’d you say?”

“Soft . . . love. Does that mean something bad?”

“No, no, no. It’s just funny to hear it from you. Say it again,” she said, resting her elbow on the top rail of a chair, eager to hear him.

“Soft love?” said Harry hesitantly.

“Oh my— Who told you to say that? Where’d you learn that?” choked [Y/N], wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “Okay, sorry.”

“Er — you see, before we left to go here, Ron told me to experiment with . . . pet names.”

“So you delivered?”

“Do you not like it?” said Harry, his fork frozen in mid-air.

“Oh, I do. I so do,” she replied, chuckling. “I’ve had enough of tough love, I could use some soft love. But d’you know what it means?”

When Harry shook his head, she took one step forward to run her hand through his hair, grinning. “Means you accept all flaws instead of trying to build up a wall just to better and correct those flaws.”

“Then what’s so funny?” he asked with genuine curiosity rather than annoyance.

“Oh, Harry. Nothing! I just find you trying new stuff very, very amusing. Moving in here was a good choice, you know. Now I get to find out new things about you,” said [Y/N].

Harry smiled back, his cheeks a tad warmer than usual. “So which do you prefer? Tough love or soft love?”

“Eh, a relationship can’t work with just one of the two. Both works. Now eat your slice before we get working on this house,” said [Y/N] as she snapped her fingers, picking up her own plate and savoring her own work. “Chop chop.”

“You mean home?”

“Yep, I mean home,” answered [Y/N] without any hesitation. Oh, and, just one small update: they didn’t remove the plastic wrap of the mattress until next week.

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ladyvesuvia · 3 years

Note

HELLO CONGRATS ON YOUR MILESTONE !!🛣🛣🛣 with anything sixth yr quidditch captain harry PLEASE im dying of the lack of it

Harry getting you to try-out for Chaser

——

PAIRING: Harry Potter x GN!Gryffindor!Reader

WORDS: 0.7k (740)

WARNING(S): not proofread. || SECOND PERSON

i’m so sorry this took long i felt too uninspired agkjsdjek HOPE U LIKE IT MY BBY this was also longer than i had in mind but I hope u like it :*

“If there’s anyone else here not from Gryffindor,” roared Harry, his face contorted in annoyance, “leave now, please!”

As soon as Harry got everyone lined up in the respective positions — which took drastically long — they were trying out for, he called out the column of aspiring Chasers, an assortment of brooms held by an assortment of hands.

A while after almost the majority of the line of Chasers had tried, Harry approved of Katie Bell and Ginny Weasley already but so far none of those who followed did even an ample job. He put the two in charge to take note of it while hovering over the other students taking their time practicing: younger Gryffindors stood at the hard ground of the Quidditch Pitch, checking their brooms; second years trying to make laps around the vast entirety that is the Pitch; and a lot more.

Harry was hovering near the stands, close enough for you to call out to him. “Harry!” you half-whispered and half-hissed, not wishing to go any louder as to not turn anyone’s attention to you. “Psst, Harry!”

To your relief, he turned to you. “Yeah?” he said before realizing who he was talking to, looking at you and Hermione respectively. “Oh, [Y/N], Hermione, didn’t see you there.”

“We don’t know what’s going on from here, so how’re the try-outs going?” you asked. Hermione seemed to be preoccupied with looking through the Pitch.

“Brilliant,” he says with too much enthusiasm, leading you to the conclusion that it was in fact anything but. “Got Katie and Ginny as my Chasers.”

“That’s good!” you exclaimed. “They’re great, aren’t they?” Harry nodded at this in agreement. “So it’s good now?

“Actually, doesn’t the team require three Chasers?” said Hermione, snapping out of her daze.

“Oh, yeah! Don’t you need one more?”

Harry wanted to point something out about Hermione suddenly having something not bad about Quidditch but refrained from doing so. “Er — yeah, that’s a problem because” — Harry leaned in, his broom inching closer to the stands as to avoid being heard (at this point Romilda Vane was glaring at you and Hermione, possibly murder in her mind. The other girls were just giggling while someone mirrored Romilda’s face) — “none of those who came in between them and followed next did and do well. I want to, you know, make a good impression as my first time as Quidditch Captain and it’s just not looking good.”

You nodded, acknowledging his sentiments. “What about Demelza Robins?”

“What about her?”

“She seemed alright from where we were sitting, right, Mione?” She didn’t respond. You scanned the large space of the Pitch in an attempt to spot her only to just end up looking back at Harry. “She was good at dodging Bludgers. Wait, Bludgers, right?”

“Oh, right, her. I don’t know, I guess I just thought maybe you’d want to try out.”

“Please, me?” you scoffed. “I don’t even know the proper terms of the balls. I used to call the Quaffle as ‘the ball that sounds like Waffles’ whenever we went to anything Quidditch-related but even now that I know what it’s really called, I still confuse the Quaffle and the Bludger for each other!”

Harry raised a brow at your denial and so did Hermione. “We could make that work.”

Sighing, you giddily stood up. “On second thought, fine, I’m trying out, I’ll just run back to get my Shooting Star real quick.”

“Thought so,” said Harry as he watched you pick up your jacket. “You sure? Don’t want me to Accio it over here to save you some time?”

“No thank you, Mr. Big Shot, I’ll consider it as a warm-up,” you replied, jogging away only to turn back around to him, worried. “Wait, don’t you think they’ll hate me if you let me in late?”

“Probably, but I like you,” said Harry.

Hermione looked up, eyes wide, almost as wide as yours. “What?” both of you exclaimed.

“As a Chaser, I mean, yeah, as a Chaser.” Harry cleared his throat. “Now scoot.”

“Oh, then I guess I like you,” you said, earning the same look from Hermione, but this time with Harry. You begin to jog away again only to yell back, “As a seeker, I mean!” By the time you were already far away, you made a wall with your hands around your mouth, yelling to Harry again, “And as a Captain!”

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ladyvesuvia · 3 years

Note

🛣- the golden trio shows the reader (who is new to hogwarts) around. And they introduce the reader to people.

You’re a fifth year transferee from Ilvermorny and the Golden Trio shows you around Hogwarts

——

love it <333 SORRY THIS TOOK TOO LONG hdhdjsa didn’t wanna expand so here’s a 413 worded one kinda not like what u had in mind i’m terribly sorry || FEM!READER

You’d been in Hogwarts for a few minutes now, having even been publicly sorted (something you still dread long after it had taken place) to [Y/H] but it still did not feel like home.

Two identical tall older boys approached you, their backs straight. “Welcome to Hogwarts, mademoiselle,” said one of them.

The other one bowed. “We happen to be your tour guide for to—”

“Excuse me, but I happen to be specifically assigned to this task,” snapped a girl with bushy hair from behind the two boys. “Get.”

The boys left, but not without a grin your way. Rolling her eyes, the girl took you by the arm and soon it was a smile on her face instead of a scowl. “I’m Hermione Granger, and I’ll be showing you around on your way to your classes today.”

A boy with red hair crept up from behind Hermione, seemingly lost. You had to stifle a laugh. He leaned into Hermione’s ear to whisper, “Does she speak English?” The boy looked from you to Hermione and back until he decided to utter a subtle smile your way. “Welcome — to — Hogwarts,” he enunciated with gestures. You resisted the urge to tell him he resembled a mime.

“She can hear you, you git; and of course she does, Ron! She’s from Ilvermorny.”

“Oh,” said Ron, dumbfounded. “I thought she was from Beauxbatons.”

“Why does everybody think that?” you muttered to yourself.

“This is Ronald Weasley—”

“—Ron’s alright with me—”

“—We are Prefects, so don’t hesitate to ask us for help,” said Hermione with a smile, introducing the two of you.

“Us?”

“Yes, Ron, us,” Hermione confirmed, at the verge of launching into a monologue just when another familiar boy caught up with the three of you.

He opened his mouth to speak but turned to Hermione instead. “Yes, Harry, she speaks English. Now, where do we begin?”

“Actually, I think I’d like to get to know everyone first.”

“Everyone’s a lot,” said Ron. Hermione threw him a minor glare before turning back to you.

“Those two identical guys are best you steer clear from. They’re Fred and George, Ron’s brothers. Don’t accept anything from them, you wouldn’t want to learn it the hard way.”

“Their snackboxes are actually good,” Harry commented.

“They make food?”

Hermione ignored this, only facing you again with a friendly smile. “Now, shall we?”

And thus began the most interesting (and reasonably exhausting) school introduction you’ve ever seen to date.

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ladyvesuvia · 3 years

Text

Take My Breath Away | [H.P.]

[Navigation] [Masterlist]

Pairing: Harry Potter x Ravenclaw!Reader

Requested?: No

Summary: Harry Potter fancies you, and you happen to do, too. Just when you lose hope, he decides to step up his game (kinda).

Words: 1,580

Song: Take My Breath Away by Berlin (loosely based)

Category: FLUFF!!! Idk either but it’s just short tho skdnjwkakska

Warnings: none

Disclaimer: GIF NOT MINE! I do not own any of the characters in this story.

A/N: okay, maybe there is one warning. This is my first fanfic ever. It’s short so I could experiment first and see if I can handle it! This hasn’t been proofread, so expect errors. I also wrote this around 3AM, so I may or may not have jetlagged 👁👄👁 reblogs, comments, and suggestions are very much appreciated :)) ok here goes

The Boy Who Lived had his eyes on you ever since your eyes met during that one particular Quidditch match against Slytherin. It was a rainy day for Quidditch, and windy too. You never had that much interaction with the well-known Harry Potter since Ravenclaw and Gryffindor didn’t have that much classes together, but you knew in an instant he needed help, and that you weren’t gonna let Slytherin win. Hermione already made his glasses repel water, but the problem now was that the Golden Snitch would still be hard to find in this weather. It was like in second year when Gryffindor and Slytherin fought in a weather just as bad, but Merlin, this one was worse! Two umbrellas were already flying, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think they were just beautified Bludgers.

He had been so bewildered, his brows furrowed in concentration. He was at level with you, only he was quite far away; but close enough to meet your eyes. Both of you just stared at each other for a second or two, both of you wet in the pouring rain when a slight swoosh from the corner of your eyes let you know that you had something that will solve his problems. He had not spotted the Snitch yet, but neither did Slytherin’s seeker. Now was the chance. Adrenaline coursing through your whole body and shivering from the concerning weather, you met his eyes firmly and subtly told him with your gaze, “Snitch. Down. There.”

It took him awhile to realize, but he did. You thought he’d move the opposite way to mislead the other Seeker, but there was no time, and he knew that too. So Gryffindor’s Seeker angled his broom downwards, plummeting further down as the rival team’s Seeker followed close behind him but Harry had already clasped it with his hands. Cheers had erupted from the crowd, all three houses jumping up and down from their seats; Slytherin didn’t seem as amused. As you cheered yourself, you met his eyes again, and you both gave each other a subtle smile.

It’s been two years since then, and nothing has happened. Well, some things did happen, just not enough to seal the deal. At first it was butterflies, crushing, not knowing about each other’s feelings. The last variable made it hard—both of you hardly knew how to express each other’s feelings to the other! It was still butterflies and crushing, but maybe that’s the problem? Most of the people you knew were dating someone, be it same house or not.

As you walk to your next class, which you had with Gryffindor, you ponder about what good things you’d like to happen: for Harry to ask you out to Hogsmeade, like the couples around you did. It also would be nice if he at least for once tried to give you a pet name—

He walked in. God— you mean, Merlin, he walked in! You sat in your chair, simply waiting for your professor to walk in, shifting uncomfortably. Was he looking? He walked past you, and you were disappointed once more.

“Y/N?” He said my name. Cool. Cool, cool, cool. Yes, I’d like to go with you. No, no, too boring. I’d love to go. Too tacky and pitchy. What about I’ve been meaning to! Agh, no.

You turn to him. “Yes, Potter?”

“You dropped this,” he says as he holds up to you an hourglass in his hand. “Don’t worry, it didn’t crack. The poles protected it from falling.” Well, it didn’t protect me, did it, Potter?

Blinking rapidly, you practically snatch the hourglass from his hand, flustered. “Thank you,” you say briefly, turning away from him, hoping for your seat mate to throw you to Azkaban, anywhere but here.

Maybe you were being mean to him, but you couldn’t help but feel disappointed all the time, willing for something to happen.

And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t jealous when you walk in a deserted hall and spot a random couple being flustered for being caught exchanging a moment.

“It’s just that I want that part. But all that’s happened is just exchanged smiles, talking, and we’re good friends—not that that’s not good enough—maybe it’s really not—but I tried stopping—Agh!” You scowl silently, not wanting Madam Pince to shush you. Hermione was grinning, and it took you a moment to realize you had just confessed your feelings indirectly. “Oh, Merlin. You’re telling him.” Yep, Hermione will tell him. Or not. You didn’t know her well enough, but you two were nice to each other nonetheless.

“‘Mione? You won’t tell him, will—”

“He likes you too, you git!”

“I’m a what?”

“I’m sorry, I just can’t hold this in.” She clears her throat, but still in a quiet matter as to not attract Madam Pince. “He fancies you, how could you not know? How could neither of you know about it?”

You were staring at her, dumbstruck. Harry Potter liked you back? “Oh, that’s ludicrous. And, honestly, I just don’t see it happening.”

Hermione glowered at you, and you got the sense she probably would’ve hit your head against Harry if he were present.

The next day, you and Hermione meet again in the library to continue your project. She never mentioned about what happened yesterday, and you were quite relieved. You stood up to return the books you took to grab a few more. However, when you came back from one of the shelves, she was nowhere to be found. It was getting late, after all. You return to the shelves and put back the new book you pulled out before packing up your bag.

As you clean up, you find a note tucked under one of your books. “Meet me at the greenhouse,” it said.

Nope, not at this hour. You turn to exit the library, but what if it was Harry? No, can’t be. But what if?

Curiosity got the best of you, and soon you were walking out of the castle and into the greenhouses. Hesitant, you stood there, waiting.

“Hello?” You inquire, waiting for a response. All you could smell was the mixed scent of the plants. “If this is a joke, it’s not funny at all.”

“Brilliant,” a voice from behind you retorted. Your eyes widened, expecting You-Know-Who or something else. You didn’t know, it was dark and your mind was filled with these racing thoughts and so you cried out, “Lumos!” The end of your wand lit up and you froze.

Standing in front of you was Harry Potter, his hair just as messy as ever. You wouldn’t have recognized him if it weren’t for the green eyes glinting in the pale moonlight. “Sorry,” he quickly added. “I thought it would be romantic.”

Romantic. Was this a dream? If it is, Merlin, please don’t wake me up ever again. “The Astronomy Tower would’ve been a much fairer choice, don’t you think?”

“Do you?” He looked down, doubting his choices. First time he makes a move and he messes up? He chuckles nervously. “Sorry,” he added again.

“Stop apologizing,” you say, maybe a bit too harsh. And for a moment, he looked as if he was going to apologize again, but thought better of it. “Whatever Hermione told you, it isn’t true.”

“It’s not?” It was Harry’s turn to have his mind racing with thoughts now. This cannot be happening right now. Why would Hermione lie to him? Both of you stood there in silence, not daring to meet each other’s eyes when you just snap.

“Of course, it is! I liked you since that stupid Quidditch match and you looked at me. I have been so obvious, so clear, and so direct with my feelings!” Except you weren’t, at least not enough for him to notice. “And if this is a prank, I swear to—”

Before you could utter another word, he had tapped your nose with his finger. You froze, once again.

“What was that?”

“Um— a boop?”

“A what?”

“I don’t know,” he laughs nervously, scratching his neck. You thank the stars and whoever there was to thank other than Merlin that it was dark, so that he couldn’t see her face reddening even in the low glow of her wand.

“A kiss would’ve been better,” you mumbled under your breath.

“Come again?”

“Nothing.” Well, this is a disaster. You both stood there, not saying anything again. He booped your nose, how romantic. Well, it kinda was, a voice inside your head said so.

“Thank you for the tip at Quidditch.”

“A bit late, don’t you think?” You tease, to which he blinks nervously. He didn’t seem to get it, so you two just stand there again.

“Look, it’s late and I have to go—”

Just as you turn away to rush back to the castle, he reaches for your wand hand, and pulls you into his chest, the shadows in his face flickering as your hand shakes uncontrollably and you eventually dropped your wand.

He gulps and his brow furrows as he tries to recall something he’s been rehearsing for a while now. “Take my breath away,” he tells you as he presses his lips against your own, and so you do.

You pull away only for a bit, your cheeks hurting from smiling. “You’re welcome.” And it was your turn to boop his nose with your finger as you two walked back to the castle.

#harry potter x reader #harry x reader #harry potter x reader fluff #oneshot #hogwarts #harry potter masterlist #harry potter #x reader #oneshots #masterlist #harry potter x ravenclaw!reader #harry potter x ravenclaw reader #ravenclaw #ravenclaw x gryffindor #fluff #ves.writes #ves.writes harry potter

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ladyvesuvia · 3 years

Text

Sink to the Bottom

@mentallymarriedtohjp: hi! how r u? hope ur doing well! i wanted to ask for a harry x reader fluff umm maybe they dating in ootp with umbitch and everything he he, i’m just rlly soft today for ootp harry... hope u have a nice day! baii

Pairing: Harry Potter x GN!Gryffindor!Reader

Summary: Being there for Harry after Umbridge sends him to detention. [Sink to the Bottom by Fountains of Wayne]

Words: 2.1k

A/N: this is the first time i’ve written first person omfg ok hehe hope u like it babe! HSHDHEIS MY FORMAT IS SO INCONSISTENT IM SORRY

[NAVIGATION] [MASTERLIST]

I saw the way they looked at him. Everywhere he went, alarmed expressions drew up to the faces of those who stood by whenever he came near, muttered opinions that were exaggerated. And just as I hadn’t been ignorant of how they treat him, I was also aware of how he’d been treating himself.

As we sat in our first Defense Against the Dark Arts class of the year, I couldn’t help but risk a glance his way here and there. Dolores Umbridge clasped her hands together, a bright smile on her face (Or at least, that’s what she’s been trying to convey. I wondered if it would help if I told her my vision darkened whenever she comes into view. Of course, it wouldn’t. Would’ve been one heck of a shot, though).

She made us hide our wands. My eyes met Harry’s. I was seated right next to Hermione. But my mind was elsewhere. From the corner of my eye, I glimpsed Hermione’s raised hand. But just like I said, I was somewhere else. The sound of our new teacher’s voice made me want to snap my wand in two, but that will not do so I resorted to trying to calm myself down.

If I closed my eyes just a bit, I could see myself in the Burrow with the Weasleys, seated in one of the seats of the dining table, and blowing a spoonful of soup before gulping it down. This fantasy was soon broken by Harry’s booming voice.

I froze. He was talking back. I tried to capture his gaze, shaking my head vigorously. Either he did not see me or did not want to acknowledge my disapproval, for he kept talking to Umbridge as the entire class tensed. I turned to Hermione, sweat dripping from my neck down to my back.

Tried as I might to listen, my head was aching so bad that the only thing I heard was Harry mentioning the Dark Lord’s name. It was when Dolores Umbridge determined he was to be sent to detention that fully jolted me back to reality. Whatever his punishment was, it couldn’t possibly be good. I’ve been on the receiving end of Professor Snape’s detentions, and they were far from bearable.

She sent him to Professor McGonagall. As Harry made his way to the door, I thought about how I could easily send him a look that asked, ‘what were you thinking?’ but thought better against it and gave him a worried expression instead. He gave me a tight and reassuring smile. I know something was better than nothing, but I just had a bad feeling about this.

Something had to be done. I took a deep breath. Hermione looked at me, alarm in her eyes as I raised my hand. Dolores Umbridge was still panting from sending Harry to detention, and when her eyes fell on me, I could tell she was furious even as she cleared her throat and called up her toad-like smile.

“Yes?” she managed. I can see the threat in her eyes, but I paid no mind to that. Screw this.

I stood up. The entire class was looking at me now as I yawned and stretched my arms. “D’you know Voldemort?”

Hermione tensed beside me, kicking my foot lightly as she tried to catch my eye. I could see some of my classmate’s shoulders tense at the name. Who can blame them? Even I tensed at the mention of the Dark Lord’s name. Umbridge was not pleased.

Before she could speak against me, I pulled out my wand from my bag and started flinging it around like a worthless stick.

“Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort, Vol —”

Safe to say that Dolores Umbridge was furious and livid enough to send me away.

“STOP THIS INSTANT!” she bellowed. If it weren’t for the tense atmosphere of the room, I’d have laughed at her face. “Fifty points from Gryffindor.”

Everyone was silent for a moment. They didn’t even falter at the deduction of the points. Surprisingly, even Umbridge was quiet. She did not send me to detention. “Aren’t you sending me to detention for saying ‘Voldemort’?”

I could see that she flinched from the mention of his name. “Do you want me to, dear?”

“That’ll be lovely, thank you.”

“You will stay here. I am your professor, and you will do as you’re told. Take your seat.” I didn’t. “Take your seat now.”

“If what Harry said was a lie, why are you so scared?”

“We do not speak of the Dark Lord. What’s your name,dear?”

“[Y/N] [Y/L/N], dear.” I deadpanned. She was not impressed.

“Alright, [Y/L/N]. It will most certainly do you better if you take your seat and keep your mouth shut.”

“Voldemort, Volde —”

“I WILL NOT TAKE THIS DISRESPECT.” The woman — hardly, but I’m trying to make a point — balled up her fists in indignation, furiously scrawled something on a sheet of paper, trudged to where I sat and handed me a slip. “You will bring this to Professor McGonagall and —”

“I have detention with you, duly noted. Great, more quality time!” Snatching the slip from her, I stood up from my desk and hung my bag over my shoulder before marching to the door.

Before leaving, I turned around and looked back at the others looking at me. Then I looked at Umbridge. She was redder than ever. I thought the touch of red on her face would look good as a dress.

“Stop fearing his name so much, he’s not Beetlejuice,” I said condescendingly before swinging the door open but before I pulled it shut again, I retreated back to the classroom. “Get it? Because if you say Beetlejuice three times, he’ll . . . poof in front of you,” I said lamely. Only then did I realize how weak of an exit line it was. I’d have dragged my hand down my face if it weren’t for the students who shared a look of fright while Umbridge flamed in anger. “Oh, don’t worry. Voldemort won’t appear in front of you, he’s busy gathering his dance troupe. Bye-bye.”

On my way to Professor McGonagall’s, I hummed in triumph. When I arrived, I found Harry seated, shoulders tense. He was eating a cracker, I think?

“Good heavens, you as well?” gasped McGonagall. Sighing, she adjusted her glasses and gestured at a tartan tin lying on her desk. “Have a biscuit too, [Y/L/N].”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

We walked in silence for a little while, but after I finished eating my own biscuit, I decided to break the silence. He hadn’t spoken to me in a while. “So, you liked the snack?”

“What’d you tell Umbridge?” Harry asked, keeping up with me.

“What she had to hear,” I said, licking my lips. “What everyone had to hear. You shouldn’t have talked, you know. She’s mad. Like, mad mad.”

“Then why’d you talk back to her, too?”

“Not on my watch am I gonna let you go alone. Our detentions are scheduled on different days, but at least we got to eat a cracker with Professor McGonagall.”

“Sorry,” he said. He did not meet my eyes.

“Ew, what are you sorry for?” I teased in an attempt to better the mood.

“Well, for getting you in trouble.”

“Don’t be. I like you for that.”

It was time for dinner, so when we made it to the Great Hall, we both plopped down on the benches, groaning.

I could tell news about what happened during our Defense Against the Dark Arts class earlier this day had spread. I don’t know how, but it was probably because whatever news involved Harry and the Dark Lord was considered

“But you still shouldn’t have done that,” said Harry, shaking his head. “Now they’re gonna think you’re mad.”

“Good,” I remarked, leaning in the table to take a chicken leg. “That’s a good thing to be.”

“Both of you should not have done that,” Hermione hissed as she tossed her book aside. “She could have gotten you two expelled!”

“Would’ve been nice,” I said, getting a reproachful look from Hermione. “Well on the bright side, people don’t like her even more now.”

“That was established right from the start,” said Ron.

“Ron’s got a point,” said Hermione. Ron straightened in his seat, but Hermione ignored him. “The only thing that’s changed is they don’t like you now even more, too. I mean saying Vol — Voldemort’s name like that! Quit it, Ron. She’s really going to get you expelled.”

“You kept raising your hand,” I said defensively.

“I was asking questions. Now, on to more important matters. . . .” I didn’t really hear what Hermione had said, nor did I hear what Angelina Johnson told Harry. Something to do with Quidditch try-outs. Or practice. I don’t know.

When we got back to the common room, I practically plopped down on the couch. Harry sat down right next to me, leaning back and groaning. I looked up to find him frowning, staring at nothing in particular.

I sat up right away and beckoned him to lie down on my lap instead. “Go on now, I’ve been told I make good company so you don’t have to worry.”

Harry then obliged, albeit hesitantly. This was a first for us; we’d only started dating before we came to Hogwarts. I don’t blame him for being nervous. Heck, even I’m worried. What if he doesn’t like my lap and all stupid questions. Stupid concerns but, well, I can’t just not worry about everything. I can’t just not worry about Harry.

I’d fallen asleep as soon as Hermione mentioned our essay in Herbology again, and I dreamt I killed a rat.

When I woke up, I forgot about it for a while but as soon as I gained my consciousness, I remembered the dream: I was walking in the Great Hall when a rat bit my toe and I just . . . stepped on it. It was a weird dream. But I recalled a friend of mine from before I went to Hogwarts telling me about a dream similar to mine. Apparently, killing a rat in your dream was a good thing. It was disgusting, so I shook it off, not wanting to think about it any further than I already have.

As I became more aware of my surroundings, I also realized I’ve been sleeping on Harry’s lap. I bolted upright.

“I’m sorry, you can lie down now.”

“No, no, it’s okay! You looked tired so I — er — let you sleep.”

“Sorry, Harry,” I told him, taking his hands into mine and rubbing circles on it as gently as I could.

“Come on, lie back down,” he said.

“No, it’s okay, I’m wide awake now.”

A moment of silence once more. We stared into the fireplace, the flames dancing as if in a waltz.

“They’re gonna think you’re mad, you know,” he said with a laugh. I sat closer to him, leaning my head on his shoulder.

“I know, I know.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“They’re bringing you down! If there’s anyone who’s willing to go down with you, that’s me,” I teased. To my relief, he laughed.

“I wanna sink to the bottom with you and that’s that,” I said, staring into the fire. It kept dancing. “Like it or not, you’re my boyfriend — hard to believe but I’m not complaining — and I will literally be there for you whether or not you need me.”

“Thank you,” he whispered.

I pulled away and looked at him with feigned anger. “I launch into a romantic monologue and I just get, ‘Thank you?’”

Harry chuckled, and it was hard not to do so as well especially when his laugh is every bit as infectious as his smile. “I love you,” he blurted out. “—smile. Your smile. Love it? Love your — I love your smile.”

I inched away from him with narrowed eyes.

“Did you really have to add the smile part?”

“Did you want me to?”

“Nope, I feel the same way.”

“Okay, uh, sorry for blurting it out. But I do, though. Is that okay?”

“Is it okay to love me?” I asked jokingly. I would’ve laughed but he looked like he was about to shit his pants so I simply smiled. “‘Course it is!”

He smiled a bit, but I could tell he didn’t seem so satisfied.

“Oh, cheer up. I love you too, you dork.”

“Thanks.” What he said alone was enough to send me wheezing but for his sake, I decided it was better to not laugh at all. But his breath of relief. . . Heavens, this boy will be the death of me.

“What?” I choked, trying not to laugh.

“Er — nothing.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. That’s more like it, mister.” Grinning, I rested my shoulder on him again. All worries were nothing but distant. Detention? Screw that, I’m lying next to him. No time to worry about things not worth worrying about.

if your name is crossed, please check your privacy settings. click here to be added to my taglist!

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ladyvesuvia · 3 years

Note

🛣 i’m going nowhere - Harry x reader; fluff

Road trip with Harry and he starts complaining about the music you’re listening 😈🍷

Road trip with Harry and he doesn’t like the song you’re listening to

——

song’s oops…i did it again by britney spears because i don’t think he’d be such a big fan of it hHAHAHAHA yep this is probably a blurb or drabble idk anywaayyy it’s a but different too mbad i’m sorry

Your shoulders danced along to the beat of the song while you drove. “I think I did it again,” you started, singing along in the most Britney-like voice you could manage. “I made you believe we’re more than just friends — by the way I do not mean any of this, I love you, don’t worry — it might seem like a crush. . .”

Harry stirred in his seat, just looking out the window as you continued to sing along.

“Hey, you’ve been quiet,” you said with a laugh. “Are you alright? Ooh, could I get one of those cartons you’re drinking?”

Harry didn’t speak as he reached out his arm to the back of the car to fetch you a chocolate drink. He only put the straw on and handed it to you before settling himself back in his seat and proceeded to look out at the world passing by.

“What do you wanna do?” you asked jubilantly before taking a sip of the chocolate milk with your one free hand. “It’s Britney, bitch,” you add under your breath with a snap of your fingers as you took a turn in the highway.

“Er — I dunno, maybe we could switch stations or something,” said Harry, pertaining to the radio.

“Why? Wait — ooh baby, baby, oops I did it again, I played with — Hey!”

With a huff, Harry had turned off the radio and sat back with his arms crossed triumphantly. “I did what I had to do.”

“Shame on you, mister,” you told him just before you turned it on again. “Oops, you think I’m in love, that I’m sent fro — STOP TURNING IT OFF!”

“It’s Harry, bitch,” he said, imitating the snap you did earlier.

Laughing, you turned to him in disbelief. “Oh — excuse me?”

“Just kidding, I’m sorry, I love you too.”

click here to be added to my POTTERVERSE taglist.

HARRY POTTER TAGLIST: @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts @badass-yn @mjoubertt-1 @gold-russh @gingerale2017 @justadreamyhufflepuff @prongs103 @florqlness @i-love-scott-mccall @niceandspicy

#ves.writes #ves.writes harry potter #vesuvia’s 600 followers road trip #🛣 i’m going nowhere #harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry james potter #harry potter x reader blurb #tw cursing #harry potter fluff #harry potter x reader fluff

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ladyvesuvia · 3 years

Note

Hii Ves <33 May I please request a 🛣 for your celebration? Second person for wolfstar talking you through a panic attact before class?

(I'm not sure if you write wolfstar x reader, if you don't, either one of the boys would be perfect as well)

Remus talking you through a panic attack before class

———

hi monique my beloved thanks for sending this in! as much unfortunately, as i love reading wolfstar x reader, i don’t think i’ll be able to do it justice 😩 i’m dedicating this one to remus because i haven’t written anything for him yet i hope that’s ok <333 also i think this is more of a blurb? idkdiska

Remus turned around to find you four steps behind, your arms wrapped around yourself as everybody walked by, not noticing anything.

“Breathe,” he says, and it feels more of an assurance than a command. “Watch my hand and breathe with it.”

Your eyes fell on his left hand, and he closed it slowly and gingerly as if protecting something fragile. “Inhale,” he told you in the most lulling voice you’ve ever heard. He opened his hand again, still slowly. “Exhale. Good, you’re doing great, [Y/N].”

Soon it was only the two of you in the hallway, him coaching you on breathing, his soft voice close to that of a lullaby.

“Do I have permission to touch you?”

You nodded, and so he rested his other hand on your shoulder, drawing gentle circles on it while his other hand remained a reference for you to help calm your breathing.

“You know,” you finally said as you felt yourself slowly bettering in his care, still breathing along to his hand, “you’d make a good teacher.”

Remus smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

#vesuvia’s 600 followers road trip #🛣 i’m going nowhere #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x reader fluff #remus lupin headcanon #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin drabble #tw panic attack #ves.writes #ves.writes harry potter

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ladyvesuvia · 3 years

Text

[Navigation] [Masterlist]

@firewhiskyss: 🎢 harry with either “That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think?” or “I’m afraid I’ve been thinking…” “A dangerous pastime.” because my heart can’t handle angst rn 😋☝🏼|| for my 300 followers celebration

Pairing: Harry Potter x Fem!Muggle!Reader

Summary: Being stuck in the elevator is bad enough, but being with a stranger makes matters worse.

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: not proofread, light cursing, elevators, power outage + let me know if i missed anything

A/N: too bad u cant handle angst i could’ve found ways to sneak that into this hehe jk anywaaayy ok i felt uninspired sorry hydagjih

Harry held a bag he did not own in his hand. His shirt was a bit muddied and moist on one side, but he didn’t mind. He stood in front of the eighth door he’ll be knocking on in hopes it was the owner of the bag. It still wasn’t, though.

Instead, a woman his age greeted him with a smile. She was pretty, sure, but she wasn’t what he was looking for. He apologized for interrupting and went ahead to knock on the ninth door.

It swung open, and Harry let out a long sigh.

AN HOUR OR SO AGO

“Hold the door!” said a voice from the lobby. Harry pressed the open door button in haste, the doors doing as it was told to do. The figure rushed inside, hair dripping wet on the tiled floor of the elevator. He kept his eyes trained to floor as she moved his way to press the button to the eighth floor. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

The girl next to him began to dry her drenched hair with a purple towel, patting herself dry. Harry risked a brief glance in her direction — she was wearing a floral one-piece swimsuit which she layered with denim shorts. When she caught his eye, they both inched away from each other uncomfortably. To their relief, the elevator started to move up.

Nobody seemed to be coming in just yet. After all, it was six p.m. and most were probably outside biding their time for night swimming. Harry, on the other hand, just came down to get a box of doughnuts for Mr. Weasley, who he can only assume was changing into his swimming trunks in their hotel room. The rest were probably doing the same.

Harry was waiting for it to reach the ninth floor when the elevator lurched to a stop on the seventh. While Harry refused to meet eye contact with the girl next to him, she was busy trying to convince herself it was alright.

It’s okay, she thought to herself as she made a show of more aggressive patting of her hair in more of an attempt to calm her drumming heartbeat than to really dry it. Another passenger was probably just entering.

But she knew better, they both knew better. The lights above them began to blink in an inconsistent manner. To her dismay, the doors did not open nor did they continue to go up.

They both turned to each other with a bewildered look on their faces. Harry made to reach for his wand, but held himself back. Then the lights went out along with the tiny ones coming from the buttons. Harry froze. He heard the stranger next to him shift, probably wrapping the towel around herself. She had stopped pretending to pat herself now. Harry watched as her as she dropped her bag down on the wet tiled floor and pulled out a bulky gray block from it. Harry stood there awkwardly as if a statue while she kept on fumbling with the block thingy he now recognized was a flip phone. A light glowed from it, her face looking similar to that of a ghost.

She pressed it against her ear, but it seemed to not be working. She then raised her hand higher in hopes of getting better reception to no avail. Harry cleared his throat. The girl’s head whipped to his direction. “The emergency call button,” said Harry.

“I know,” she spat, reaching out for the buttons. But instead of clicking that particular button, she clicked the button for opening doors. Harry noticed she seemed to be shivering a bit even with the towel.

The girl was still dripping, albeit lesser now. She kept pressing the open door repetitively with her wrinkly fingers. Harry remained stiff, unsure if he should use his wand. “What floor are we currently?”

Taken aback, Harry didn’t respond for a couple of seconds until she reached out to his shoulder to check on him. “Oh, er — seventh, I think.”

He then heard her click a button he supposed was for the seventh, then a bunch of other buttons the next.

“We’re gonna die, we’re gonna die, we’re gonna die. . . .” Harry found that he preferred the constant clicking noises from the buttons over her constant reminder of their ‘impending doom.’ It was like fourth year all over again when their Divination teacher Professor Trelawney kept telling him he was going to die an early death. She kept chanting to herself in hysterics.

“Have you tried . . . the emergency call button? The one with the bell?”

“What do you think I’ve been doing?” said the girl. To his surprise, she picked up her bag again and aimed it at the elevator door before swinging it right in the middle. She then started banging her fist hard on the doors, pounding. “Help! I’m stuck! I mean, we’re stuck! Hello? I’m wi —”

“There’s a press to call thing here,” pointed Harry.

“Good,” she remarked as she practically run to it when the elevator made a creaking noise from above. The girl let out a shriek as she fell backwards and pulled Harry down with her. “Lie flat or we’re both gonna die!”

“Why — ?”

“JUST DO IT.” He did. Both of them sprawled their legs and he felt the damp floor wet his back a bit, but he was still weighing the pros and cons of pulling out his wand. Of course, if it were up to him, he’d pull it out in a heartbeat but the Weasleys’ vacation was on the line and he couldn’t jeopardize that by—

The elevator whined, and it felt as if it was moving a bit. “We’re gonna plummet to do our death!”

“Calm down,” said Harry, hardly knowing why he even bothered in the first place because he didn’t know what to say next especially with the girl’s expectant eyes on him. He thought of what Hermione had told them when they first came here, who then attempted to calm the others down about their feelings on Muggle Elevators. “Er — elevators are one of the safest ways of transportation with only the fatality rate of zero point zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-something-fifteen percent per trip.”

“Oh, shut up, stranger,” cried the girl. “There’s still a fifteen in that end. We’re gonna die, accept that!”

“You seem to be the one having troubles accepting that,” argued Harry back. She shot him a glare.

“I haven’t written my will and we’re gonna die. You see — you hear that rumble? We’re slowly falling down and we’re gonna die. I should have — should have taken the stairs. Please, please, please let me live! I swear I’ll start eating vegetables! This is it stranger, we’re gonna die.”

“That’s a bit melodramatic, don’t you think?”

“We’re about to die and you have time to think? Lie with your chunkiest bits on the floor to increase our chance of survival.”

He wanted to argue, but he resorted to inching further away from her and stretching his limbs awkwardly.

“Damn it, you shouldn’t have kept the door open!”

“How is that my fault? If anything, I was being nice,” said Harry.

“Being nice? You just sentenced me to my death and now I’m dying in this cramped space in a swimsuit and shorts that aren’t even for swimming!”

Surprisingly, the elevator whined to a stop. They remained on the floor for half a minute. Eventually, she was the first to stand up. Dusting herself and not meeting Harry’s eye, she smashed the bell button with her finger. It buzzed for a few seconds before a guy’s voice answered.

“Hello,” said the operator. The intercom seemed to be having troubles.

“Uh, hello, hi,” replied the girl.

“So are you currently stuck in the elevator?” Harry could hear the girl turn to him in the dark and call up the look of utter disbelief, as if wanting to reply, ‘No shit.’

“Yes, very much.”

“Okay, are you alone?” asked the operator.

“Unfortunately, no. I’m with . . .” she trailed off, turning to Harry with prolonged contemplation. “With stranger. I’m with stranger. A stranger. With a stranger, I mean.”

“May I know your names please?”

“Uh, sure? I’m . . . Papier Matchen and this is —”

“Har — Neville. Neville Longbottom, sir,” answered Harry. The operator did not respond. “Neville Longbottom.”

“Are you both guests?” asked the operator.

“Yes,” said [Y/N]. “Wait, are you a guest?”

“I am a guest,” said Harry stiffly.

“He’s a guest,” she added, as if in an attempt to keep whatever morale is left high. The operator didn’t respond again. “Hey, uh, operator? It would really help if you didn’t keep disappearing on us.” She chuckled nervously.

“What floor are you currently on?” said the voice with a bit more static.

“Uh, well,” she said, turning to Harry, “last time we checked, it was on the seventh but it moved down a bit and we might be in-between floors seven and six.”

“Alright, thank you. We’re currently experiencing a city wide power outage, and it appears that the back-up battery in Elevator Three has not yet been replaced since the last brownout. We apologize for the inconvenience.”

“Yeah, you should be sorry. So, uh, is any of your authorities gonna come and pick us up?”

No response. She pressed the button again. And again. And again. No sound came, not even static. “Hello? Hi?”

When no one responded again, she slumped to the floor once more, her hair still wet but no longer dripping. “Sit down,” she said, pointing at the spot right next to her. Harry obliged. “You can sit across, I don’t care. I know I smell like chlorine right now.”

Harry sat across from her, leaning back against the wall. She didn’t talk either. This went on for about five minutes until Harry had the urge to do something or at least say something.

“I’m afraid I’ve been thinking,” he started.

“A dangerous pastime, you should be afraid. Go ahead,” she said, gesturing a finger gun his way.

“Shouldn’t we try to get out of this?”

“Who are you, Bruce Willis? Need I remind you that you are Nev . . . Bottom?”

“That’s not actually my name,” said Harry.

“Same, I just said Papier Matchen off the top of my head. Like papier mache but witchy. My name’s actually pretty good, I think. I’m [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. Oh, wait, nope, don’t like it.”

“I think it’s good.” [Y/N] turned on her phone and shone it around until it landed on his face. Harry realized he had kept the box of doughnuts in the corner when she made them sit down. “I’m Harry,” he said when she finally turned off the phone.

[Y/N] turned it on again and directed it to the box of doughnuts. “Are those doughnuts to make us super tiny like Alice in Wonderland or something?”

“Oh, those are for my friend’s father.”

“Let’s eat it, I’m hungry,” said [Y/N].

“It’s for my friend’s father.”

“You have to realize that that is so not a good enough point. We’re trapped in an elevator with no means of communication with that musty man and eating that is the only thing we can do. Unless you want to do something else?”

“Er — What?” choked Harry, clearing his throat. “Okay, fine, uh, doughnuts.”

She made a triumphant sound Harry couldn’t explain, but paid it no mind as she reached out to grab the box of doughnuts from the corner. She set it in front of her.

“Hey, these are from my aunt’s bakery.”

“They are?” asked Harry.

“Yeah! The one across the street from here?” asked [Y/N], to which Harry nodded. “Ooh, you got the one with Oreos? Nice! I helped design those.”

“Okay, uh, can I have some?”

“I thought it was against your will to take some of these from your ’friend’s dad?’” teased [Y/N], but she handed him a doughnut anyway. Harry began to eat just like she did. “Sorry I forced you to lie down here. . . .”

She looked at him, waiting for something. What? Harry furrowed his brows, confused.

“Sorry, I mean, what’s your name again?” asked [Y/N], hints of the chocolate stuck between her teeth and some on her lips.

“Harry Potter,” replied Harry, who debated against himself whether or not he should point it out. After all, she seemed to be having a good time and they just started to lose the tension. “You’ve got uh, something on your, you know.”

“I know,” said [Y/N], but she didn’t do anything about it. “Anyway, can you believe six and seven are lucky numbers yet here we are, stuck in the wretched elevator between them?”

“No, that’s why I don’t really believe in those . . . things.”

“I’d say that’s insulting, but I’m dripping in my swimwear while I’m stuck in the elevator with a total stranger, so fair enough.”

Harry didn’t know how long they were talking, but it just went on. He was pretty sure there were times he even laughed. Harry reached out to grab another doughnut when he realized she was holding it as well. They both let it drop back to the box.

“Oh, no, it’s yours,” said [Y/N].

“It’s okay, you can have it,” said Harry.

“I ate more than you did, you can have it. Just go,” said [Y/N].

“You can —”

“You know what? Let’s just split it.”

[Y/N] ripped it in half, handing him the bigger slice. Just when Harry was going to offer to exchange, she swallowed it whole.

“Too late, I ate my half already.”

“I can see that,” said Harry. He began to eat his own half, savoring it with three more bites.

“Sorry I smell like chlorine again.”

“Eh, I don’t know, it’s kind of growing on me,” said Harry. “I shouldn’t have said that, sorry.”

“On a good day, that would sound like an insult but it’s anything but a good day, so, thank you, I guess.”

The two shared a laugh (and most definitely three) the entire time when the lights turned on. They could see each other clearly now. There was no denying they felt quite vulnerable — like finally meeting an friend you only send letters and emails to for the first time, but she smiled to make it feel lighter.

Suddenly, it started to move up again, [Y/N] kept them seated just in case it started plummeting again. It didn’t, though. It opened on the seventh, as the indicator told them so.

The intercom buzzed once more and different operator spoke. None of them stood up.

“Hi, power’s slowly being restored. How’s everyone?”

“We’re good,” said Harry. [Y/N] smiled in the shadows, tossing the towel in the corner. “Wait, you’re — er — good, right?”

“Yeah, surprisingly so,” she said.

“Good to hear, we’re currently doing the best we can to cater everyone’s needs. Has your, uh, elevator moved yet? Sorry, I’m new here. Anyway, has it?” asked the operator.

“Currently open on the seventh floor, but we’re both going up, all’s good now, don’t worry,” answered [Y/N]. She stood up, taking the towel with her.

“Okay, great, thank you and take care!” said the operator before the intercom buzzed off. Harry and [Y/N] stood there as the elevator door closed shut and began to move up and open again to the eighth.

“So,” started [Y/N], “this is me. My floor, I mean.”

“Right,” said Harry

“Well, I still don’t like elevators and I may or may not ride one ever again so I can’t believe I’d ever say this because it’s hella cheesy but thanks for making it bearable.”

“I feel like I should say, ‘you’re welcome?’” said Harry.

“Oh yeah, you should.”

The door began to close, but Harry pressed the open door button.

“Okay, you’re welcome.” The two shared lighthearted laughter. “Anyway, er — thank you, too. See you around?”

“Yeah, yeah, see you around. Bye.” [Y/N] waved as the doors closed between them and Harry was once again all alone in the elevator.

He noticed what a mess the floor was, and went to pick up the empty box of donuts. His hand went to where he kept his wand to clean up and looked around for cameras and found one tucked in the upper corner. Harry let his hand down and dusted his shirt with his hands when something caught his eye. A beach bag in the corner, resting carelessly.

The door finally opened to the ninth floor. Harry was frozen, looking directly at a long hallway of doors. It took a few seconds until it whirred and shut close. Not knowing what to do, Harry picked up the bag and swung it over his shoulder.

He tapped his foot as he waited for the elevator to go up to the twelfth floor until it began going down again. He pressed the button to the ninth floor again.

Ten.

Eleven. A couple his age entered, probably about to go down. Narrowed eyes landed on him and his dirty shirt and pants, but he paid them no mind.

Twelve. The couple started to talk about their plans on the honeymoon tomorrow. Harry busied himself by playing with the straps of the beach bag. He realized just now it had her name inside one of the straps lazily written with a sharpie. [Y/N], it stated.

Eleven again.

Ten again.

Nine again. The door opened, but he did not step out. Of course, the couple began to eye him with suspicion now as he reached out to press the button to the eighth floor.

Eight. When he stepped out, he heard the hushed but relieved sighs from both of the other two behind him as the elevator proceeded to close shut and go down.

Harry knocked on the first door. A man in his pajamas answered. Harry muttered an apology as he walked away to try the second door. He heard the first door swing shut.

The second door was equipped with a sign on the doorknob saying, ‘Do not Disturb.’ So, of course, Harry moved on to the third. He heard loud sounds of children playing inside. When he knocked, a tired woman carrying a toddler in her arms answered. Harry apologized once more and moved on.

Harry’s shoulder was aching, so he let the bag down and simply held it in his hands.

The fourth door was answered by a middle-aged man holding a glass of wine.

The fifth door’s knob held the same message as the the second — ‘Do not Disturb.’

As you may recall, Harry held a bag he did not own in his hand. His shirt was a bit muddied and moist on one side, but he didn’t mind. He stood in front of the eighth door he’ll be knocking on in hopes it was the owner of the bag. It still wasn’t, though.

Instead, a woman his age greeted him with a smile. She was pretty, sure, but she wasn’t what he was looking for. He apologized for interrupting and went ahead to knock on the ninth door.

It swung open, and Harry let out a long sigh.

An older woman greeted him with a pleasant smile. “Hello, dear,” she said. He took a shot and asked if she knew anyone by the name of [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. Unfortunately though, she did not.

Harry finally made it to the last door. He knocked once more, holding the bag tighter now. A little kid answered, with her parents and siblings in the background, eating pancakes. They did not know of someone named [Y/N] [Y/L/N], either.

Shoulders slumping, Harry made his way back to the elevator. He pressed the up button.

“Excuse me?” called out a voice from behind him. His heart skipped a beat. Wait, don’t skip, he thought to himself.

It still wasn’t her. It was the same girl from the ninth door. “Yes?”

“You’re looking for [Y/N]?” she asked. “[Y/N] [Y/L/N]?”

“Er — yes. Do you know her?” asked Harry.

“Yeah, she’s in the shower. Is that her bag?”

“Oh!” He almost forgot that he was holding it. “Yes, yes it is.”

“I can give it to her,” called out the woman. She closed the door behind her, making her way towards him. When she was close enough, she extended her hand.

The elevator dinged open. Harry was about to hand it over to her, when he decided something else.

“Er — no, uh, I was actually hoping if I could see her.”

She let her hand down, grinning. “You must be Elevadork.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s an inside joke,” said Harry.

“You can wait inside,” said the girl. “I’m Karolina, by the way. She’s just showering because she’s, and I quote, ‘will be too unlovable if smelling like chlorine.’”

Harry chuckled as Karolina led him to their hotel room. It was just like every other room he had seen, then he saw the same towel she had with her just a while ago when they were stuck with only each other’s company.

“He was nice, though. I wouldn’t mind seeing him again. By the way, we’re out of hair conditioner. My hair badly nee — Harry!” [Y/N] tumbled backwards to the bathroom with a different towel wrapped around herself. Harry’s eyes widened, and he turned around.

“He wanted to return your bag and ask you out,” said Karolina.

“That’s not what I actually said,” whispered Harry, turning crimson.

“Honey, trust me, it was definitely what you said,” laughed Karolina, patting him in the back. “You might want to change first.”

“I guess,” added Harry.

[Y/N] rushed to the get her clothes from one of the two beds and ran back to the shower, where she hastily pulled on her shirt and checkered pajama pants.

“She’s done changing, by the way,” said Karolina, patting Harry on the shoulder again as she left to pour iced tea for herself.

[Y/N] led Harry out, earning two thumbs up from Karolina, who was beaming up at the two of them. “How’d you find me?”

“Fate,” said Harry mockingly, as if from a show. She giggled. “I knocked on all the doors in this hallway.”

“To return a bag?”

“Sure, that, too. But mainly to ask if you’d like to get some — er — doughnuts with, uh, me. I really want to bring some up to —”

“Your friend’s dad, right,” [Y/N] cut out. “Are we still taking the elevator?”

“Yeah,” said Harry.

They finally reached the elevator, where they stood side by side.

“Aren’t you going to change first?” asked [Y/N].

“Nope,” said Harry, pressing the down button. He turned to [Y/N], looking at her shirt. “Does that say ‘Treacle Treat?’”

“Yeah, like as in Trick or Treat. See the pumpkin?” She pointed at the bottom part of her shirt.

“Oh, there it is.” The two were laughing even when they stepped into the elevator. They exchanged a knowing glance at the sight of scattered crumbs of doughnuts on the floor, not daring to talk about it in front of one another guest.

As the elevator began to go down, Harry realized he might as well believe in the lucky numbers. After all, if it weren’t for six, seven, and nine, he wouldn’t be here right now standing shoulder up to shoulder with the girl wearing a funky shirt.

Taglist: @gingerale2017 @maybanksslut @hey-there-angels @mrzweasley @gwlvr @booksarealwaysbettersworlds-blog @greenlyblue @henqtic @meiitanoia @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts

#harry potter #harry james potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter x reader fluff #harry james potter x reader fluff #harry potter x fem!reader fluff #harry potter x fem!muggle!reader #harry potter fanfictions #harry potter fic #harry x reader #harry potter imagines #harry potter x y/n #ves.writes #ves.writes harry potter

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ladyvesuvia · 3 years

Text

[Navigation] [Masterlist]

@harrysnosebleed: 🎢 harry drabble with “kiss me” prompt >:) || for my 300 followers celebration

Pairing: Harry Potter x Fem!Reader

Summary: Teaching Harry how to dance as an epiphany follows not so far behind. [Dreamy Eyes by Johnny Tillotson]

Words: 0.9k words (953)

Warnings: none, just fluff but let me know if i missed anything!

A/N: ok short works aren’t my specialty idk if this is a blurb or drabble ngl hHAHAHAHA anyway charan wait i just researched it this is a blurb i think sjdjwj either wayyyy hope u like it bb

“what the hell was that?” the champions and their partners had just finished dancing, and she had seen him moving around like a lost little puppy dog. “you know, parvati looked like she was the one leading the dance.”

“it wasn’t,” said harry. “it’s just that i have a lot in my mind right now.” [Y/N] knew exactly what he meant. the very thought of it unnerved her — even in this glittering facade of the tri-wizard tournament, she knew enough of the wizarding world that it wasn’t as glamorous as it appeared to be.

“my bad,” she added apologetically but still keeping the same air a sunshine would if it were a person, trying to keep his spirits up.

she could see the way his eyes kept darting here and there, as if the answer would be right in front of them in plain sight. the music started playing again and everyone of them were pairing up again.

“uh, harry?” she called out, tapping his shoulder.

“what?” harry was still busy eyeing something in the crowd, deep in thought. she thought about how adults would call this rude but the way his lips opened a bit like a minor dropped jaw. she stifled a laugh.

“where’s your partner?”

“my what?” he turned to her.

“your partner,” she repeated. “parvati.”

“er — i don’t know?”

but she did, and she found that she did not want to disclose that information in hopes for success on what she was about to do. merlin or whoever is out there who decides fate or whatever, this one’s on you if it flops.

“good, because i’m gonna teach you how to do it my way.” he looked as if he was going to ask her what this meant but before he could even ask her, she took him by the hand and led him away. she saw his nervous face reappear again when they reached the dance floor, but she kept walking until they were outside. although distant and a bit muffled, they could still hear the music playing inside. “you have no idea how tempted i am to lead the dance but i don’t want my pretty dress to go to waste if i were to just dance the steps someone in a suit would.”

she took both of his hands and let it rest on her waist. he looked like he was about to protest once more, but she shushed him with her finger. “nope, we won’t be doing this the way they taught us. trust me, this is easier.”

she hung her hands over his shoulders, wrapping her fingers around his neck while humming the tune of a song and swaying along. when harry moved stiffly, she laughed but coached him anyway. he got the hang of it, but not quite. when she finished humming the song she started singing off-key, but she did not mind.

“dreamy eyes, ba-rum, you’ve got such drea— oh, you’re laughing now, huh?”

“sorry, i couldn’t help it.” he took one hand off her waist to push his glasses to prevent it from falling. she was laughing now, too.

maybe it was the way he smiled, brighter than she had ever seen; or maybe the way his hair was messier than usual; or his green eyes looking at her with a different kind of glee. . .

but there was this strange feeling growing from her chest, but it could be just from all the chiffon cake she ate and that she was probably choking. when she determined that was highly unlikely, she fell to the conclusion that this was in fact a romantic epiphany.

and when you get epiphanies, you do something about it. but she can’t. she was rooted to the ground with her arms putting little distance between them and her hands wrapped around his neck.

“harry,” she started. he looked at her now, laughter still etched on his face. “i have something to ask of you, if that’s okay?”

those pure set of eyes will be the death of her, and she knew it. when she told a classmate during herbology she loved the idea of friends becoming more than just, it earned a gasp she couldn’t understand what for. apparently most people found that liking someone you’ve been friends with for a long time was far too risky.

“okay,” he said. she almost pulled him into a kiss when she realized she hadn’t asked the actual question yet.

to hell with risks, i’m doing this.

“harry,” she started again, preparing for the worst. “kiss me.”

“wha — ?”

“never mind,” she added hastily. “it’s alright, i shouldn’t have brought it up. it was a mista—”

nope, it wasn’t a ‘mista.’ how could it be if in her mind, she was dissolving right now as she let the reality of his lips on hers sink in? eyes closed, hearts magnified — a combination she never knew she’d experience, let alone with harry.

when he pulled away they found themselves drowning in giggles, not out of ridicule of themselves, but out of surprise and everything else.

“mr. potter, you kiss better than you dance!” she teased, playing with his hair as she did so. “do you wanna go back inside?”

“no, let’s stay here.” this time, it was him who picked up her arms and wrapped them around his neck and rested his hands on her waist. to her surprise, he started humming the same song. “you really do have dreamy eyes as the song says, though.”

“i know, i caught you mooning over me while i was walking down the stairs. you like me too much,” she said, swaying along.

“i really do, don’t i?”

Taglist: @gingerale2017 @fives-cup-of-coffee @hey-there-angels @mrzweasley @gwlvr @booksarealwaysbettersworlds-blog @greenlyblue @henqtic @meiitanoia @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts

#vesuvia’s 300 followers perya #harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter masterlist #harry x reader #harry potter x fem!reader #harry potter x reader fluff #harry potter x fem!reader fluff #harry potter x fem reader #harry potter x fem reader fluff #harry james potter #harry james potter fic #harry james potter fluff #ves.writes #ves.writes harry potter

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ladyvesuvia · 3 years

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Downtown Train | [H.P.]

[Navigation] [Masterlist]

Pairing: Harry Potter x Reader

Requested?:

Summary: You and Harry cross paths again years after you were expelled from Hogwarts.

Words: 2.6k

Song: Downtown Train by Everything but the Girl (loosely based)

Category : kinda angst and fluff

Warnings: angst, light cursing

Disclaimers: GIF NOT MINE! I do not own any of the characters in this story.

A/N: ok i got kinda lazy at the last part in sorry skdjeow hope you guys like it tho :)) i took a bit of inspiration from the scene where Ted and Tracy finally meet in HIMYM. this is my second fic omfg thank you to those who liked the first one!!!

It has been around a decade since you’ve set foot in London, and although a lot has changed over time, you could still see the little things that remained ever the same. You watched the city pass by before your eyes as the cab you were in sped through highways. No use dwelling in the past now, you’ve been through so much already, why let it bother you?

You could’ve taken the train to the terminal, for it would’ve made much more sense but... You wanted to see something for yourself first. After a forty-minute drive, you finally arrived at King’s Cross.

Making your way to the platform, you raised your wrist to check the time, and it was more than enough to piss you off. Missed it by eight minutes.

You knew it wasn’t worth fretting over, but the fact that everything is always within reach but then gone once you try and seize it was deeply frustrating. The terminal felt deserted even though there were still people bustling about. You hated that there were no seats and you had to just stand there, leaning on your trolley suitcase’s handle as you waited for the next train. Your shoulder slumped in disappointment.

Wait—

Right.

You almost forgot your suitcase as you hurriedly trudged toward the 9th platform, looking for any sign of...anything. You looked at the barrier you only walked through four times. You’d only been in (What was it called? Hoggerts?) that one particular Wizarding School for two years, but you got expelled for becoming an unregistered animagus. “Oh, right, Hogwarts.” You muttered under your breath, a lump in your throat already forming.

A mirthless laugh escaped your lips, and you were quite certain the passersby thought you were a mad woman. You were twenty-three already, but the memory of when you were eleven kept slapping you in the face. You think about how you made an Animagus Potion and how long and difficult it took to make. It was hard to keep a mandrake leaf in your mouth, having to not take it out until ready. But when you had succeeded and mixed it with the untouched dew, you turned into an owl. This was a year before you received a letter to Hogwarts, when your only intention was to visit the unnamed boy with pretty green eyes who lived with the Dursley family. You think about how your stepmother left for a week and put a nanny named Bertha Jorkins in charge, how an owl swept downstairs with a red envelope and an unfamiliar voice erupted, how you pretended to sleep in fear of your life, how Bertha left a thick book which you found out were spells.

It took about a year for you to succeed in making that potion. You almost passed out at the sight of the moving illustration of what was called a mandrake. You kept thinking about what lead to where you were now, you kept racking your brain thinking about what could’ve been. Maybe you’d be working in some magical job instead of a bland Muggle office career. You kept thinking about the shabby ‘witch’ shop you stumbled upon from which you purchased mandrake leaves and untouched dew, both sealed tight in jars, the dew packed with extra wrapping, as it was not allowed to see the sun.

No, you had to stop thinking about it. But then again, the memory of when you found out the Dursleys let the green-eyed boy sleep upstairs and visited him as an owl twisted your guts.

It was around early July and you sat just outside his window. He immediately raised his blinds and slid the window open. His eyes darted your leg. “No letter?” He muttered, but you heard it well. Were you...supposed to bring a letter or something?

You cocked your head to the side. You still didn’t know his name, and for the past years that you fawned over him, you resorted to calling him Specks. “Did Hagrid send you?”

Hag-what now?

“Ron? Hermione?” His eyes had this twinkle of hope, as if waiting. For what, you did not know. Then Specks faltered, his shoulders slumping. “Guess not. Haven’t been receiving any letters from them.”

He didn’t seem to know what to do, either. “Do you need water? I have one in Hedwig’s cage.” He gestured to the cage tucked into the corner of his room. I’m not drinking from that, you thought. “Are you lost?”

The first meeting was awkward, but as you noticed an assortment of owls flying to the window, you caught on and went down to make waffles. The last time you visited him, he was eating plain tuna. That’s got to be rough, you thought as you started to make waffles on your own. As soon as the package was tied, you flew out and pecked on his window, which he immediately opened.

He untied the package on your legs, reading what was written. “From... owl?” He looked at you hesitantly as he unwrapped it. And then he did that thing— he smiled. And you were sure you’d have thrown your hands over him if it weren’t for your tacky wings. You often visited him, he even started to call you Owl. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. You brought him cookies, waffles, and stuff like that. Until one day, you noticed Mr. Dursley barricading his windows.

You thought that would be the last you ever saw him, when at some point you vividly recall a flying car stopping by his window, and as much as weird that scenario looked like, you couldn’t help but laugh at the faces of the Dursleys as the car drove away into the night.

You laugh as you recall the letters you wrote you never would’ve sent to him, crying because you thought he was gone forever. Then you received a letter yourself, from Hogwarts.

It was all complicated from there, you found out your mother left you an amount of fortune by Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts while your father left you Muggle money, which you had converted to fund for your studies at Hogwa—

A rumble of lightning shook you back to reality. This is the now, you must focus on the now. Not the past. So you lifted your chin, finally turning away from platform nine and three-quarters, not daring to step into it. You get into a cab, asking the driver to take you to the other terminal, which took maybe half an hour to get to. You didn’t know where you were, but around the area was a deserted train station. There were only two other people seated on the bench, you couldn’t see them well, but from their backs you could tell one was a sleeping elderly woman, and the other one a man in a tuxedo.

As you stepped out, you walked to the back of the car to open the trunk. The driver opened his window. “‘Vat are you doing?”

“I’m getting my luggage,” your voice almost drowning from the pouring rain. “Luggage!” You repeated.

“You ‘zo not have luggage!” The driver responded. What does he mean I don’t? Then you opened the trunk, and realized you forgot it at the train. “Fucking hell...”

“Sorry, Mister! You may go now, thank you for the ride.” He honked in response, and drove away. Well, at least you had your handbag and umbrella with you.

You stepped into the platform, tired from walking endlessly. You wish you never even returned here. The umbrella’s stick rested on your collarbone, and you could feel the cold of it numbing you. You turn to the two other people seated on the bench. The old woman was still sleeping, and the man was hunched, his elbows resting on his thighs, hands clasped together, deep in thought. When he looked up from his seat, you instantly recognized him. How could you not? He had grown since the last time you saw him, when he was only thirteen years old. He was rugged and tired, but there was no mistaking it. The undone necktie resting around his neck looked out of character for him, but it was just as well.

You think about your second year at Hogwarts, when you were caught turning into an animagus. The professors were impressed, but not in a nice way. They started to assume you might’ve been the Heir of Slytherin. To quote Snape, “Y/L/N, a young Half-Blood such as yourself couldn’t have made a complex potion.” There was a clear hint of a sneer in his voice, as if he wanted you to know you shouldn’t be there at all. He even suggested the possibility of sending you to Azkaban, but the potion just got confiscated and you received detention.

The following week, you started to avoid Harry. Of course, he knew. You were the one who dropped off little snacks. Every animagus had a unique pattern, and the spiral-looking pattern on your left wing sold you out. You never talked to him again, never been this embarrassed in your life.

But then you used the Cruciatus Curse, and the teachers were livid. The truth was that you only suspected a fellow student as the Heir of Slytherin, out to get Potter.

“On a student, Miss Y/L/N!”

The parents of the student sent complaints, having even suggested to send you to Azkaban. Some of the rumors even said that you were the next Dark Lord, to which you just laughed off. So you packed your bags, about to leave Hogwarts.

“Y/N,” Harry called out. “I’m—”

“You don’t have to say anything. It’s fine, really. I wouldn’t be able to fund my tuition next year anyway.” You jokingly said. He didn’t seem happy about it. “Be careful, Harry.”

That was the last time you saw each other. And seeing him here, in that tuxedo, with that damp hair... Was he coming from a wedding? His wedding? You shouldn’t be curious, and so you swallow the lump in your throat and looked straight ahead.

A minute or so later, someone tapped your shoulder. “Excuse me,” the person started. “You seemed cold.”

He was holding out the jacket of his tuxedo. Don’t look at him, don’t look at him.

You kept your eyes trained to the ground as you politely turn his offer down. “It’s fine,” you say in the tone you always do. “Really.”

He seemed to recognize you now, so you look up to him. He grew a couple inches, and his jaw had hint of a growing beard, and it looks like he just shaved recently. “Fancy seeing you here,” he starts.

“Just on a business trip, I’m not really gonna stay. But nice to see you too.”

“What, you don’t live here anymore?”

“Well, yeah. I had to take school late. You know, can’t really apply for a job and say I come from some magic school, right?” The two of you chuckle. “Congratulations, I guess”— you gesture to his tux — “or not, if you chickened out.”

“Oh, I’m not the groom. It’s Ron and Hermione.”

“They got married?”

“That’s right,” he bellowed. “I guess some of our friends owe us a fortune, huh?”

The two of you just caught up with each other there, and you found yourself wishing it wouldn’t end. You don’t know when it happened, but his jacket was draped on your shoulders already. You both eventually end up away from the platform and to a deserted park, taking a seat at the swings. They were still damp from the rain, but it didn’t matter one bit. At one point, silence engulfed the space between you two, but it was strangely comforting. Like the knowledge that the other one was there was all it took to right everything that was wrong in the world.

“So,” he cleared his throat. “Did you make the waffles yourself?”

“Yeah, how were they?”

“Brilliant, thank you.”

The silence again. But this time, it might have been the loudest and deafening sound you’ve ever heard. There were words you both wanted to get off your chest, but it felt like they had expired already. Words that should’ve been said a long time ago would be nothing right now. Maybe it would be something, but what good would that do at all?

So much has happened, so much time apart, you weren’t even sure if he was the same person he was. You had so much to say, but the words weren’t there with you right now. Maybe you’ll tell him when the time is better, but that isn’t the case now.

“It’s getting late. Where are you currently staying?”

And so you two ventured in the dead of night, with him telling you stories about Ron and Hermione, how the wedding went, and how everyone is. You, on the other hand, told him about how you just graduated a few years ago and are here to look for potential clients and how you plan on quitting and starting a different career you really like, maybe start a bakery.

“Well, this is me.” You give him the same smile you gave the last time you saw each other, only that this time, you hoped this wouldn’t the end. “Thanks for walking me that far.”

You hand him a small amount of money, and you start to walk into the hotel, not knowing how to feel.

“Is that it?” His voice broke. You stopped in your tracks and pulled out your wallet from your handbag. “Sorry, how much more?”

“You’ve technically risked everything for me way before you had any clue what you were doing and all you do now is hand me cash for a cab?”

“What do you think should I do, then?”

You could see him carefully analyzing your question, gulping, fidgeting, and more. Although now was not a good time, you felt proud that you still knew him at least a bit, and that he was enough assurance that he’s still the Harry you brought waffles and cookies when you were younger.

“I don’t know, but just not this.” You could hear his throat getting hoarse. “I can’t just let you go now. I didn’t know where you were, how you were doing, I kept waiting for the owl with the spiral pattern on its left wing and it never came and then I saw you again on that downtown train, all beautiful and... I don’t even know what I should do.”

You take a few steps down the stairs, walking toward him and finally reaching your hand out to cup his cheek, smiling. Then you took his jacket off your shoulders and held it out to him. “I think it’s rather flattering you think I’m beautiful.”

“Well, you are.” He hated that every word you said felt like it was the last you’d ever say to each other. He hated that this really might be the last time you crossed paths. He hated that you weren’t staying. Both of you were waiting for something, you just didn’t know what. A kiss didn’t feel right. At least, not yet.

And so it made his chest lighter when you put on his jacket again and hopped down the stairs and to the sidewalk. “Whe—”

“You don’t have to say anything,” You said, just like you did last time. Only that now it was with better reason. He did as he was told, and the two of you kept walking to no particular destination, ever thankful for the distant downtown train.

#harry potter x reader #harry x reader #harry potter x reader angst #oneshot #oneshots #fic #fanfiction #angst #angst fic #harry potter #hogwarts #ron weasley #hermione granger #ves.writes #ves.writes harry potter

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ladyvesuvia · 2 years

Text

Where or When

PAIRING: Remus Lupin x Fem!Professor!Reader

SUMMARY: Some things that happen for the first time seem to be happening again when the Yule comes around once more. (Where or When by Dion & The Belmonts) || REQUEST

WORDS: 1.1k

REMINDER(S): Happy AU where Remus is a professor in GoF and the Yule Ball is yearly/frequent. Super smol angst if u think about it but all in all mostly fluff and dancing :))

for @draconisxcaput’s harry potter writing event! major props to her for organizing everything <3

A/N: my drafts are constantly having errors where it keeps repeating certain sentences idk why skdhej so lmk if something’s wrong !!

—

You bump into someone. “Sorry, I wasn’t — Remus!”

“Hi,” he says, abashed.

You scratch the back of your neck, resisting the urge to just run out as fast as you can.

You smile back. It’s just Remus, you think to yourself. Just Remus and myself. “Hi.”

“That’s a lovely dress.”

You chuckle. “Why, thank you.”

Remus had considered all the things he could say: May I have this dance? Would you like to dance with me?

“Dance?” he manages to ask, blinking rapidly.

You take the hand he had been hesitant holding out. “Alright,” you say.

The music keeps playing, and so does the dancing.

“Remus,” you say in greeting.

“[Y/N],” he greets. “So, uh, how are you this fine evening?”

“Bearable.”

You’re thankful for the music taking up space between the both of you. Neither of you really had a date yet according to what’s happening as of the moment, it looks like the two of you do.

The night goes on as perfect as it could be, but the days that followed weren’t as lovely.

It was never mentioned again, and you couldn’t bring yourself to do so.

And so it was all lost somewhere in your mind.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

YULE BALL 1994

He stands and lingers by one of the tables, just watching the students chat with one another. On another night, he’d only be in his quarters, figuring out the next plan of action for his lessons but attendance has become a requirement for everyone.

As well as for you.

You, on the other hand, are standing at the other end of the room, trying out the new delicacies they had for this year’s Yule Ball.

When the music began, however, you found yourself left alone, stranded in the sea of dancing teenagers.

You pass by the spinning students in their beautiful dresses and robes, the memory of your own Yule Ball presenting itself in your memory. It was a night like this, your classmates and other familiar faces both younger and older dancing past in your view and—

You bump into someone. “My apologies, I wasn’t — Remus! I mean, Professor Lupin!”

The students are still dancing, but you could tell there were subtle glances here and there from them but you tried to pay them no mind as you stood there right in front of your old friend.

It seems we stood and talked like this before

We looked at each other in the same way then

But I can't remember where or when

“Hi,” he manages to say.

Wait, you think. You’re quite sure you had this dream once already.

You could have sworn you’ve already been in this very moment not so long ago. “Hi,” you respond with an amused laugh, “wintry room, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah, wintry room,” he says, his head bobbing up and down in awkward agreement. He then gestures to you. “Lovely dress you’re wearing.”

“Thank you, kindly,” you say with a laugh.

He had seen this movie once upon a time unfold before his eyes, as well. But when?

The clothes you're wearing are the clothes you wore

The smile you are smiling you were smiling then

But I can't remember where or when

“Dance?”

“Alright,” you respond, allowing him to take your hand and lead you among the countless other pairs of students.

And just like that, you were watching a distant memory: yourself in a dress the color of which complemented your complexion in the flurry of spinning gowns and delightful music as you tried to escape the scene only to find yourself standing before the very person who stands before you now — Remus Lupin.

At the Yule Ball of 1974, you had stood rigidly in front of each other, both wearing clothing you’d never thought you’d ever wear again.

Yet here you are now, two decades past, standing in the same spot you once stood as naïve teenagers.

You had grown apart over the years and yet it’s as if the world is ricocheting; as if it wants you together.

You shake off the thought.

Some things that happen for the first time

Seem to be happening again

“Remus,” you greet, just like you did back then, half-hoping he’d catch on.

“[Y/N],” he responds knowingly.

These greetings were the exact thing you’d said to each other on the night of the Yule Ball.

The night when you both willingly escaped the chance to escape just to dance with each other only to never speak of it again for the times that followed.

Is that what’s going to happen again?

But the weight of the future matters no longer when he bows with a glint of mischief in his eyes before reaching out his hand to you. “How are you this fine evening?”

You know he knows. He has seen this before and he’s willing to see it again.

“Bearable,” you answer, your mouth used to the words despite only having been in this conversation once two decades ago.

And so it seems that we have met before

And laughed before

Remus leads you a bit far away at every spin, hoping to get away from the blurry scene of dancing teens.

“I didn’t know you had moves,” you whisper, catching him off guard upon hearing you say something you had not said that night.

This is now.

Remus spun you, making sure to not mess up the footwork so as to not ruin the moment. “I’ve aged but I haven’t gone senile, of course I have moves.”

He brightens up after you laugh, and all the tension from all the unsaid things that have hung between the two of you died away and it’s all so easy to be yourselves in this moment.

And suddenly you’re close to each other, closer than the dance is typically choreographed and you try hard not to think of the aftermath. You try hard not to think of how it’ll be again. You try hard not to think of the several more times there’ll be more unsaid things.

And loved before

But who knows where or when

As Remus strays away from the song’s direction and leads you to a slow dance instead, you seize the opportunity to ask him.

It’s now or never, and you’d rather that it’d be the now.

“How many more dances do I have to dance with you for you to stop tiptoeing around me?”

You had expected him to go rigid. Melt, even. But he doesn’t.

This time, the dance will last long after the music stops because he knows.

He’s seen this movie before, and he’s more than just willing to change how it ends. “Just one more in the garden and I’ll make it up to you.”

One of the many impeccable things about Remus Lupin is that he keeps his word, and so you let him guide you outside for one more dance.

yall idk what happened at the top but here’s how it’s originally meant to start omfg

click here to be added to my POTTERVERSE taglist.

REMUS LUPIN TAGLIST: @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts @suditi-says-chai-is-trash @bellatrixscurls @ameliasbitvh @mjoubertt-1 @sibelius7 @princess-jules47 @percyweasleyspuff @pottahishotasf @whoreforgeorgeandfred @cupids-crystals @everythingisdefinitelynotfine @siriusbarnesslut @ferretboysupremacy @spxncervibes @gemmachaos @aconfusedslytherin @pmissuluger @cant-ruin-my-night @bberee

#ves.writes #ves.writes remus lupin #Harry Potter Writing Event #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x reader fluff #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin imagines #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin angst #moony #remus lupin x reader angst

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ladyvesuvia · 2 years

Text

Dinosaurs in Love

PAIRING: Fred Weasley x GN!Reader

SUMMARY: Dying in the battle together without even getting the chance to say goodbye. (Dinosaurs in Love by Fenn Rosenthal)

WORDS: 1.0k

REMINDER(S): death.

A/N: just a smol thing cos i was craving angst and i got obsessed with this song again and it’s 6:01am and i still haven’t slept so give me a break ok >:((

…

Dinosaurs eating people

Wars have been fought long before the one you were about to get into, and you have both come back to each other’s arms time and time again, glad to be back once more.

“What’s one more?” Fred says with that same smile you had memorized the first time you had seen it in the Great Hall during your first year together. Only this time, you’re off to go where sudden bursts of green light made frequent appearances.

And he’s right. “Yeah,” you reply, a quarter excited and the rest terrified. “What’s one more?”

You’re both looking at each other, knowing the weight of whatever was to happen is no joke at all, and that the aftermath would linger for as long as someone mourns.

“Let’s go,” you say, prepared to leave when he grabs you by the wrist with a touch of gentleness. “What?”

Dinosaurs in love

Fred grins. “I’m goin’ to marry you after this.”

“You’re not gonna ask?”

“Do I have to?” he quipped with that cheeky grin of his. Again, you had gotten used to every single one of his charms.

And although you had a habit of saying you were immune to these said charms, you were wrong.

“No, you’re gonna marry me after this,” you say, laughing. “Actually, I’d really appreciate the question, though.”

“Alright, then,” he starts, pretending to sigh with an utter exhaustion. “Will you, [Y/N] [Y/L/N], do me a favor and make me the happiest man alive by marrying me?”

You laugh, throwing him a light and playful punch to his shoulder.

There were unsaid promises made: a house in a peaceful but not so peaceful neighborhood after a small wedding ceremony. The kids running around. Countless pictures, both magical and not, covering the walls that lined the stairs and on the mantle of the fireplace and everywhere else a surface could be found.

Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes branching out worldwide, a plan by visionaries you were willing to help out to bring into life. The two of you restocking and restocking. You helping out with brainstorming for new products.

Dinosaurs having a party

They eat fruit and cucumber

You could vividly remember the dance you’d had at Bill and Fleur’s wedding before all hell broke loose. It was, as you could remember it to be, perfect.

Dancing a bit farther away from the crowd and the music together before deciding to take a rest and try out the cucumber juice after rating the other fruit drinks while sharing obnoxiously loud laughter that the guests were glaring as hard as they could to no avail. . .

They fell in love

(Then what did they do?)

But it’s what’s right in front of you that matters. And so you snap yourself back to the present, looking at the fine gentleman before you.

Your best friend. The love of your life.

They say ‘thank you’

You nod approvingly. “That’ll do, thank you. I guess I, [Y/N] [Y/L/N] will be doing Fred Weasley a favor and make him the happiest man alive by marrying him.”

“Merlin, thank you. I can’t wait to brag about you,” he chimes. “Although, I already have. I meant that I can’t wait to brag to people that I’m goin’ to spend the rest of my life with ‘ya.”

“Mhm, but right now, we have a war to fight.”

“You mean a war to win, darling?”

“Why, yes, of course. A war to win, no matter what it takes.”

Fred smiled, seeing his beloved determined to fight alongside him. “No matter what it takes, indeed.”

He pulls you by the wrist again before you could step out. “What now?” you chuckle.

“I love you. Don’t die.”

“I love you, too. Don’t die.”

He pulls you in to press a kiss on your forehead. What’s now is now.

And the two of you finally strode out together, seeking another war inside a war until forced to part from each other. Blasts of green came from all directions, and it misses you by an inch.

A Big Bang came, and they, and they died

You try to keep track of Fred from the corner of your eyes, switching from him and to the Death Eater in front of you.

The promise of a future ringed in both of your heads as the two of you pointed your wands at foe and cried out spells to keep yourselves alive.

Red, green, red, green.

It might as well have been a party, the lights here and there blinding.

Dinosaurs, dinosaurs fell in love but they didn’t say goodbye.

The difference with this and a party, however, is that the deafening sound would be the music and not murderous spells.

Before you could look once more in Fred’s direction, you meet the green light come and engulf you, letting you in on the secret of a question often asked by the curious — what is it like to die?

And you were not the only one to answer.

From opposite corners of the vast room lay the two of you, dumbed down into mere corpses with two promises you failed to protect.

And even after the war is won, none of you would wake. Neither would open their eyes. The promise of such a bright and warm future is long gone as soon as one slipped away from living.

But they didn’t say goodbye

Your faces were both so still and calm that. . .

It might as well have been another day after tucking the kids into their beds after reading a storybook to them or telling them the story of how Fred had tricked you into asking Snape why, if he could brew powerful potions, could he not come up with a solution for his hair. It might as well have been any other day from the said promised future.

But it wasn’t.

Do you know what’s one more war?

A price to pay, extinction of mass lovers, and two promises of a young couple reduced into nothing more than the last words they’ve ever heard.

click here to be added to my POTTERVERSE taglist.

FRED WEASLEY TAGLIST: @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts @badass-yn @velvetcloxds @dlmmdl @gingerale2017 @i-love-scott-mccall @niceandspicy @nounboys @suditi-says-chai-is-trash @bellatrixscurls @ameliasbitvh @princess-jules47 @percyweasleyspuff @thenaivegirly @pottahishotasf @whoreforgeorgeandfred @cupids-crystals @everythingisdefinitelynotfine @ferretboysupremacy @aconfusedslytherin @bberee

#ves.writes #ves.writes fred weasley #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader angst #fred weasley fanfics #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley headcanons #harry potter #hpu #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley smut

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ladyvesuvia · 3 years

Text

Out of my League | [H.P.]

[Navigation] [Masterlist]

Pairing: Harry Potter x Fem!Reader

Requested?: No

Summary: Harry thinks you’re too perfect for him. (I’m bad at summaries mbad)

Words: 2.3k

Category: Fluff

Song: Out of my League by Stephen Speaks

Warnings:

Disclaimer: GIF NOT MINE! I do not own any of the characters in this story.

A/N: oml I’ve had this on my notes and forgot to continue writing it, and now it’s longer than it’s originally supposed to be smndjeowkw this my fifth fic omg hope you guys like it! <3 (i also made a bunch of changes)

It’s her hair and her eyes today

That just simply take me away

She was beautiful. No, she is beautiful. Maybe more than anyone’s ever given her credit for. Intelligent, cunning, charming, Harry had referred to her in almost all of the sweetest words he could think of in his silent thoughts. [H/L] locks of [H/C] hair that smelled like the sweetest thing ever as she walked down the halls.

He didn’t know what did it for him. Maybe it was her laugh, or maybe the smile she always tried to hide, repeatedly broadcasting it was one of her insecurities. He told himself so many times that he’d at least try to talk to her outside of school projects, maybe ask her out to Hogsmeade.

And the feeling that I’m falling further in love

Makes me shiver, but in a good way

All the times I have sat and stared

As she thoughtfully thumbs through her hair

His mind was full of thoughts, but always of her. One minute he’ll think of how to ask her out, and how to get rid of his feelings the next. As for the latter, this thought would go away quicker than a Snitch would go out of sight as soon as she ran her fingers through her messy hair to tie it up to work on a school activity, using the hair tie she secured with her teeth.

And she purses her lips, bats her eyes, and she plays with me

Sittin’ there, slacked-jaw and nothing to say

He loved the little conversations they had together every single time they shared a class, especially when they were partnered up together. The first time they interacted, it was her doing.

“Hey, Potter.” She had smiled at him ever so brightly. It was a close-lipped smile but it was a smile nonetheless, and he thrived on it for the rest of the day. “Is it true you’re the new Gryffindor Seeker? I don’t mean to pry, though. But congratulations!”

‘Cause I love her with all that I am

And my voice shakes along with my hands

“You too,” he had responded absentmindedly. Her laugh was just as gorgeous, and he didn’t know why she had to cover it with her hand. “Sorry, I’m just groggy.”

“I haven’t really seen what a Quidditch match looks like yet, but I guess we’ll see on your match.”

“Actually, I—” Before she could even respond, Snape walked in, and she straightened up in her seat, having turned away from him already.

‘Cause she’s all that I see and she’s all that I need

And I’m out of my league once again

Whenever he finally mustered up the courage to walk up to her in the present time, his knees would go weak and he was sure it was as if Gilderoy Lockhart had removed his knees this time. He’d dissolve a little bit more when she would ask him if he was alright.

Right now, years have passed, and yet his feelings haven’t. Just the slight mention of her name would suffice to keep his feelings constant.

It’s a masterful melody

When she calls out my name to me

Harry was not a very big fan of his own name, having heard it more than a million times in his lifetime. But when she calls out his name. . . That’s just a different story. He goes rigid, blushing, and everything else in between.

His favorite moment of when she called out his name was when she first watched him play Quidditch, which was also her first time watching Quidditch. “Harry!” She had called out as he stepped into the vast field, Nimbus Two Thousand in hand. “Good luck!”

So he did.

As the world spins around her

She laughs, rolls her eyes

“Miss [Y/L/N],” Snape sneered. “Stop humming, you are not a bee. Reckon you’d like to be one?”

Snape crossed his arms across his chest, triumphant as he said, “Ten points from [Y/H].”

This earned a good amount of groans from the [Y/H] students, worried that it might jeopardize their chance with the House Cup.

And I feel like I’m falling but it’s no surprise

At that point, Harry was worried. Snape might add detention, and that was just no good. He knew she never had detention, and if she did now. . . Well, Merlin.

He expected tears to fall down from her eyes, knowing she was in touch with her emotions and fearing Snape a bit. Instead, she had laughed silently. As much as he feared that Snape might catch her and find this detention-worthy, he found the sight of her amusing.

‘Cause I love her

With all that I am

Harry looked back to when the his name came out of the Goblet of Fire, his eyes searching the tables for her eyes. And he found it — worry from every point, but also confusion. The next time he saw her, he had expected her to ignore him especially after the badges Malfoy made were released.

She handed him a badge. Harry’s eyebrows shot up so high his scar might as well have gotten erased. Hands shaking, he inspected the badge.

“Malfoy stinks?” He read.

“I heard the Colin kid tried to enchant it in the way I was supposed to, but it didn’t work. So I went for the next best thing.” She smiled, patting his shoulder as she turned away from him, head held high. Merlin, his sweat would be enough to fill the lake now.

And my voice shakes along with my hands

Just as he was about to call out to her, Hermione had called out to him. Frustrated at himself once more, he complied, throwing one last glance at her distant figure as she walked further and further away from him.

After he overcame the first task with the Horntail, she ran up to him and gave him a warm congratulations and pinned the Malfoy Stinks badge on him, the two of them sharing snickers and giggles.

This is it, he thought to himself. I’ll finally ask her out to Hogsmeade.

“[Y/N]—”

Once again, as Bagman pulled him away, he found himself being lead away from her and her from him.

‘Cause it’s frightening to be swimming in this strange sea But I’d rather be here than on land

But then the Yule Ball was announced later on, and he knew he had to take this chance with her. Maybe he should have told Ron and Hermione first. But he didn’t want to live with the embarrassment of it if he had been turned down.

Well, that went out of the window when he found out she had said yes to Neville, and so he went with Parvati Patil.

His eyes were fixed on her the entire night, earning several coughs from Parvati. Lovely as his date was, he couldn’t take his eyes off the girl wearing a Victorian gown, only that it had no hulking petticoats underneath. Her hair had been covered in lovely flowers he could not name.

She didn’t have silver hair nor glimmering skin, but he was convinced she was far more beautiful than a veela.

Yes, she’s all that I see and she’s all that I need

He stood from his chair, a loud creak sounding. Nobody seemed to have noticed, so he kept going, prepared to approach the girl busying herself with fixing the flowers on her hair.

It’s her hair and her eyes today

That just simply take me away

As he traipsed toward her, he contemplated what he would say to her. Lovely dress? I like your hair? Would you care for a dance? Dance with me? Will you dance with me?

Maybe about five steps left.

I like you?

And the feeling that I’m falling further in love

Makes me shiver, but in a good way

Four.

I think you’re beau— No, no. You’re beautiful.

Three.

I know Malfoy said I stink, but I don— That was bad.

Two.

[Y/N], I have never bothered to search far and wide for such a thing called love, yet here I am, asking you to dance with me.

All the times I have sat and stared

As she thoughtfully thumbs through her hair

One.

He took a deep breath. She was just within arm’s reach. “[Y/N], I have never—”

But his voice was drowned by the now erupting music coming from the platform once again. The Weird Sisters had started playing a mellow song, starting with a crescendo, and [Y/N] had already encouraged Neville to dance.

As she purses her lips, bats her eyes, and she plays with me

Sittin’ there, slacked-jaw and nothing to say

Brilliant, he said to himself, gulping. As he stood in the middle of the dancing crowd, he catches her eye, and she smiled. Should he smile back? He did, but it looked more like a grimace. To save face, he turned away from her, something bright shining from the corner of his eyes.

On the floor rested a single white flower, its petals looking out of place without resting on [Y/N]’s hair. He crouched on his haunches, holding the flower in his pale hands.

‘Cause I love her with all that I am And my voice shakes along with my hands

As his eyes darted back and forth from her dancing figure to the flower, a thought swallowed him. What if he was the flower himself? Out of his place in a vast space that was out of his league?

Maybe she was too perfect for him, maybe her smiles were too much, and maybe his were too less. He fought the urge to crumple the flower with his hand. It was hers, after all — and he’d never bring himself to break anything that was hers even if she had already broken his heart long before she had a clue.

He watched her lead Neville across the dance floor. It was a rather amusing sight, and no one seemed to be paying enough attention to notice that [Y/N] had her hand resting on Neville’s waist instead. She seemed to be mouthing something under her breath, because a few seconds later, Neville started leading the dance.

‘Cause it’s frightening to be swimming in this strange sea

As the song ended — maybe just paused for a break — he didn’t walk over to her. Instead, he marched hurriedly, almost running the short distance between them, wanting to close it badly. The flower was still in his hand, and she was now within reach.

But I’d rather be here than on land

Say the words, he willed himself. Before he could utter another word, she had already faced him, and he spotted the empty area on the side of her hair that was missing the one flower he held in his hand.

“Erm—” He cleared his throat, not being able to take his eyes off her.

“Did you approach me just so you could lightly cough on me?” A playful smirk painted on her lips.

“Wha—Erm, well, no. I’m— I just wanted to— [Y/N], I have—no, I have never both—”

This is a disaster, this is a disaster, this is a disaster, he kept chanting in his mind. The Time Turner wasn’t there to save him now.

“Woah, easy there, buddy.” [Y/N] giggled. “What’s bothering you?”

You’re too beautiful, and I feel like I’m out of my league whenever I’m with you, he wanted to say. Of course, he couldn’t. So he kept his mouth shut.

Yes, she’s all that I see and she’s all that I need And I’m out of my league once again

Harry gulped. He was face-to-face with her now. He kept his mouth shut as he held up the flower in his hand and her eyes fell to the fragile little thing. “Oh, must’ve dropped it. Could you put it on my hair?”

“Put it on your hair?”

“Yes,” she said, bending a bit just so he could insert it on one of her braids.

“Oh, erm—okay.”

After she tucked a few strands in, the music started playing again, this time more upbeat and jolly. Harry had hoped for a more romantic song but it wouldn’t hurt to keep dancing, right?

The pair just stood there as the crowd proceeded to dance around them in pairs. After about three seconds, she crossed her arms and paused. Not long after, she pulled his hand among the dancing people. “I thought you would’ve asked me to dance, but I guess I sometimes have to take matters into my own hands.” She looked up at him and grinned. “It seems to me that the ‘matter’ I took has stopped working. Let’s dance now, Potter.”

“Wouldn’t Neville mind? Aren’t you—”

“Longbottom? My, my, Mr. Potter, that sounds rather incestuous. Longbottom’s more of like a brother to me.”

“It seems to me that Miss [Y/L/N] is talking rather formally,” he teased.

“Indeed she is.” Then she rested her hands on his waist, ready to lead him into the center of the dance floor.

“Woah, woah, why the waist?” He gently batted her hand away, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Well, you seemed to be chickening out so I had to lead.”

“Hmph,” Harry started. “It seems to me, that lovely Miss [Y/N] [Y/L/N] thinks Mr. Harry Potter cannot dance.”

She scrunched her face, as if deep in thought. “Well, can he?”

“We’ll see.” This time, it was his turn to lead her into the cheerful crowd. For the first time ever, Harry felt satisfied and comfortable, and the doubts he had just a while ago had vanished into thin air.

The pair broke into horrid dances, flailing their arms around that it no longer seemed like dancing, but he was having the time of his life that he couldn’t be bothered to be embarrassed as he felt the judgmental gazes of those who saw them.

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ladyvesuvia · 3 years

Text

You Don’t Know Me

—•°. for @pregnant-piggy’s writing challenge with the angst prompt 24 “I used to think that I didn’t deserve you, but now I’ve realised that you don’t deserve me.”

PAIRING: Professor!Draco x Fem!Professor!Reader

SUMMARY: Their love has a deadline, it just isn’t clear to both parties that it isn’t forever when the Potions Professor courts the Charms Professor, unbeknownst to him that she’s determined to be somewhere else.

WORDS: 8.5k (originally 8.7k but...i cut it down hehe)

WARNING(S): fluff + angst, cursing, arguments, flirting, not proofread, and kinda messy because i’m uninspired auzjdjwwa NOT SMUT || THIRD PERSON

A/N: i’m terribly sorry that this is long || kinda based on a bit of the movie hello, love, goodbye and the scene in himym s1 when victoria leaves. almost forgot to add the playlist.

[NAVIGATION] [MASTERLIST]

I. The Living Daylights [September 1991]

Long halls and grand staircases kept her on her feet, and she wanted to know so bad what was behind those grand doors. A taller boy stood in front of her and although she knew he couldn’t see her, she scowled at his stupid, stupid back.

She gently moved to the side to get a better look and hear — who was it again? — Professor McGonagall talk and orient them. The grand door was a bit open, and she could see light leaking through.

Innumerable candles hovered right above the tables, and she couldn’t help but admire every single one of them. Normally, people unnerved her especially when it’s a huge crowd but this . . . it’s magical and it’s real at the same time! You don’t see a lot of that detached from fiction. She pinched her left wrist as hard as she could and let out a yelp just right after.

“What are you doing?” said a voice to her left, and a boy emerged from right next to the taller boy from earlier.

“Pinching myself,” she replied.

“Why?” he asked, his face scrunched up. “Are you that stupid?”

“Excuse me?”

And to her surprise (and dismay), the boy stepped forward to her and extended a hand. “I’m Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.”

“Calm down, Timothy Dalton.” As soon as she said this, she gathered she shouldn’t have at all. Only three other students seemed to get it. Instead of keeping her mouth shut, she didn’t. “You know? James Bond of 1987? Timothy Dalton . . . played James Bond? Come on, you can’t tell me you don’t know James Bond.”

“What?” The boy seemed to be attempting to comprehend what she’d just said.

The girl shrunk. “Er — nothing.” And with one last awkward smile, she took a few more steps to her right to avoid talking to the boy again.

She could’ve sworn she heard him mutter something under his breath, something like Boggles or Goggles.

Later on, she heard the blond boy talk to another boy with glasses. He said the exact same thing he said to her and she tried hard to not laugh when the other boy said no. The blond boy caught her eye, and she immediately shut her mouth close and looked away.

[Y/N] couldn’t be more relieved when they were allowed to enter the room behind the door, now mostly because she wanted to get as far away as she could from the boy than her former intention of exploring the place.

II. Encounter [September 1993]

It’s only their third Potions class of the year, but she already found herself partnered up with the same unkindly boy. He didn’t seem as eager to be friends as before, much less remember her. She doesn’t blame him. After all, this is the first time they’ve talked ever since that weird moment in front of the door to the Great Hall just two years ago.

“I’m ready to shake your hand now.”

“What?” he spat.

“I’m [Y/L/N]. [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. The one who — I’m not proud — said the James Bond thing a few years back.”

“Oh yeah, you. I don’t like you.”

Maybe it was his stupid head or his stupid voice or his stupid (painful) words but she found the will to make a face at his back. Of course, she was reprimanded for this as soon as Professor Snape spotted her.

The next days were unbearable, and this was not because of being scolded by a teacher; it was mostly because she had to spend time with the same boy in the library, who clearly did not appear to be enjoying it as much as she was.

They sat in two different tables which were right next to each other but it put a respectable distance between them, and so they went with it. Desperate to break the silence and at least make small talk, she tapped his side of the table with a shaky grin.

“Hey,” she started, “just imagine all the things we could do on this table! I mean, it’s so wide and we can put so many stuff there. Maybe even put a cauldron or—”

He was stifling a laugh, or at least trying to when she realized what that sounded like.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry. Terribly sorry.”

“I don’t like you even more now,” he said with a smile as he proceeded to dip the tip of his quill in ink.

“Good. I don’t like you even more now, either.”

“Finally something we can agree on, then.”

“Oh yeah, look at that. Our first agreement as a couple!” she exclaimed, leaning forward on his table with a toothy grin. When he did not respond, she took it as a sign to not even bother. “Er — grapes?”

But then Madam Pince’s footsteps neared and she had to stuff her container of grapes back to her pocket.

That was the second and last time they ever talked in their younger years.

III. Here We Go Again [September 2001]

There’s a certain familiarity even as she sat in a chair she’d never sat on before; there were only few faces she recognized among the long tables, sure, but it feels like home to be in the same place once more. Maybe it was the glow of the candles hovering above the students or how the first years appeared to be unsurprisingly nervous just like her batch did, but it’s familiar, it’s comfortable.

She knew some of the ones in the higher years. After all, they’d been school mates back when she was only a student. In this situation, the best thing to do would be to at least smile, but she settled for looking at her cup as Minerva McGonagall spoke. Cup, candles, long tables, cup, candles, lo—

“—new Charms Professor [Y/L/N].”

Applauds and cheers erupted from the students, and she forced herself to look up, meeting the eyes of some people she knew and, of course, although dreadful, strangers.

She stood up from her seat, raising her hand in greeting. Just before she sat back down, she saw a figure in a dark cloak with a smug grin from the corner of her eyes. He was familiar, too.

Her first day wasn’t hard, and the only challenge she had to face was ink being spilled by a first year after a fail attempt at the levitation charm. It was quick to fix.

Lunch came and she spent it in her office, admiring the carved edges of her desk. She sat back down on her chair and pulled out a drawer, from which she withdrew a rich parchment and laid it gingerly on the surface of her table.

[Y/N] was about to dip her quill in her most fine ink when the double doors swung open, causing her to jump from her seat. Her eyes immediately went to the paper on her desk, afraid of spilled ink. To her relief, there was none. “Yes?” she asked the guest who came unannounced.

“Good afternoon, [Y/N],” said the guest, and she realized with a start that it was her former classmate. It wasn’t hard to mistake him for someone else. After all, the sight of paleness with a tinge of arrogance was a brand made in — one might say heaven — hell.

“That’s Professor [Y/L/N] to you, Professor Malfoy; and I believe knocking would have made a better and respectful entrance.”

“I don’t believe the same thing.” He took swift strides towards the window opposite her desk, looking out the view outside before turning back to her, taking in the character of her office. “Care for a chocolate?”

“I’m not hungry,” she said. It’s true, though. She’d eaten too much that morning as an excuse not to look at anyone else in the table, most especially this . . . abomination right in front of her which proved to be ineffective. “I’m afraid now’s not a good time, I suggest you make an appointment with me instead of bursting into my office like this.”

“Why are you so formal?” He leaned on her desk, drumming his fingers on the edge.

“Careful! You’ll get scratches on my desk and the ink—!”

“Salty,” he commented, tossing a scrutinizing look her way. “Just imagine all the things we could do on this table.” She choked on her own saliva at this.

“I beg your pardon?” She knew what he was talking about, but she pretended not to remember anything at all.

“Oh, you will beg,” he joked, laughing.

“I’d rather we be professional in the workplace and set a good example for the students.”

“Now, why would you prefer that? You can’t tell me there’s nothing going on here. I mean, the tension!” He was joking, but she wasn’t sure if he was as he fiddled with his pockets. “Alright, then. But my offer stands as long as you drool.”

“I’m not drooling.” But she reached out to wipe her mouth, glad his back was to her.

“Sure you aren’t.” He then faced her and held out his hand, a little box tucked in his fingers. “Chocolate?”

“You sound like Professor Lupin.”

“Do I now? Well, I’d say I have a lot more suave.”

She stood up from her desk with an air of indifference as she set the ink and quill aside. “You don’t. Kindly make your leave now.”

“I’d rather I don’t.”

With a groan she could no longer suppress, she walked over to him and vigorously pushed him to her door. “And I’d rather you do.”

“Come on, Professor.” He was leaning on the doorway now with a mock pleading look.

“Let me think,” she said, biting her cheek and looking him up and down. He then took this as signal to straighten his shoulders. As she tried to stifle a laugh, she shoved him further out. “Get out.” With a triumphant grin, she swung the door shut.

She got back to the rich parchment right away; Ilvermorny had always been her dream ever since she heard of it.

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

The following days were more than just confusing: Passing each other in hallways, Professor Malfoy trying to catch her eye; Professor Malfoy trying to pass a note (she never knew what was written in them, not that she wanted to); and subtle knowing looks in lunch. It had even gotten to the point where half the students knew already.

The problem with this is that she got loads of questions she did not want to answer at all.

“Excuse me, Professor [Y/L/N]?”

“Yes, dear? Are you having troubles with the incantation or the movement?”

“Are you snogging Professor Malfoy?” The class chuckled, but they all seemed to be curious.

“Heavens—! Five points from Godric.”

“Er — Professor?”

“I mean, Gryffindor! Merlin’s beard, that’s mighty brave of you to say that but kindly refrain from asking such . . . questionable inquiries and please stick to the topic. Now, moving on. . .”

In another room a few floors down, another student asked the same thing, only this time a different answer was given.

Professor Malfoy, who was more than willing to answer this, was just as more than glad for the opportunity: “Why, that’s a very graphic way to put it but no, I am not. I am, however, courting your Charms Professor. Get her to say yes for me, will you?”

“No words!” she said to him later that day in his office, her brows furrowed tight in anger. “No words.”

“That’s four words,” Professor Malfoy said after taking a bite out of a cracker. “So is it a yes?”

“Get out.”

He snorted. “This is my office.”

“Oh. Right, my bad, okay.”

“Unless you want to stay?” he suggested.

“I can’t and I don’t think so,” she said slowly as she backed away until she reached the door. “Have a good day, Professor.”

“Your wish is my command, Professor!” He called out loudly just as the door closed behind her, laughing at the sight of her.

The door swung open again. “Courting me?” she asked with a scowl.

“Mhm, do you want roses? I don’t really do those but I wouldn’t mind if you want me to bring you some during class.”

“Merlin’s ingrown toenail,” she exclaimed under her breath. She stood by the doorway this time, looking like how one would look if forced to eat a lemon directly. “Not even in a million years.”

“How about a hundred?”

“Not even in a week.”

This much was true — it took a few years, but more on that later.

“Then why did you come back?”

“Because I want to tell you right now that nothing will happen and I don’t want you to expect anything so it would really help if you stopped encouraging the students about . . . this.”

“One date says I can make you say yes until the thirty-first of June.”

“Goodnight, Professor,” she said, exasperated.

“June 2004,” he said, gambling.

She only lingers for a second longer in the doorway. “Stop encouraging the students.” And with a friendly smile, she left the door open as she walked away.

He didn’t stop. If anything, it got worse: There were suddenly flowers being brought by students she did not know, suggestive cheers whenever they passed each other in the hallways, and pretty much everything else in between.

The worst thing about it is that she isn’t sure if it’s truly the worst thing in the world, because if it isn’t, then that’s just bad. She stored these thoughts away as she pulled out her third drawer and brought out a tin box. Inside rested exquisite cream-colored envelopes, the texture satisfying to feel under her fingertips.

IV. The Follow-Up Letter [December 2002]

The holiday of their second year of teaching brought more anticipation on the Charms Professor than joy. [Y/N] leaned on the solid railing of the owlery’s stairs, a blue envelope in hand.

Should I send it? No, it’ll come when it comes. But then again—

“[Y/N]?”

A number of things happened in four seconds: One, the envelope flew away as she jumped at the sight of the unexpected guest that is the Potions Professor; two, “Draco! What—Accio Envelope!”; three, nothing but staring at each other bewildered; and four, an amused smile on Draco’s face.

“You said my name.”

“What are you doing here at this hour?” she asked him, tucking the envelope as she crossed her arms, all the while trying not to meet his eyes.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Professor, were you following me?”

“Back to calling each other Professor so soon when we just started going on a first-name basis a second ago?”

“Professor,” she said, stern.

“Professor,” he said, not so stern.

“Come with me,” she found herself saying. She wasn’t the only one surprised, for he remained silent the entire time they walked back to the castle. His surprise amped up when they stopped in front of her office, and he refused to admit he was nervous as well.

[Y/N] swung the door open, taking his hand and sat him down on the chair in front of her desk. Instead of sitting down in her chair, she walked towards the open window, the light of the night illuminating everything underneath it. She faced him.

“Look,” she started, and only when these words left her mouth did she realize she had no idea what she was going to say. “Draco,” she said again, trying to earn more time for herself, but only earning a giddy tug on Draco’s lips. “I like you,” she said exasperatedly.

His supposed smile falters, but laughs (mirthlessly) for the sake of keeping the conversation light. “If you’re confessing your love for me, that’s an awfully depressing way to put it.”

“Draco, I really like you.” It sounds like an apology. “But I can’t.”

He stood up from his chair, leaning on the edge of her desk again just like he did on their first year of teaching. “Why not? I mean, I said until this last school year, right?”

“You were serious?”

“Of course I was serious.”

[Y/N] moved over to where he was leaning on and does the same, and the both of them just stare at the window across the room. They don’t look at each other.

Silence.

“Why’d you want to become a Charms professor?”

“I’m good at it,” she said with a grin. Draco looked at her with narrowed eyes. "Huh, you don't look satisfied with my answer. Is there something wrong with that?”

“No, none at all, of course. Just curious.”

“We’re at work.”

“Hence work-related conversations because you wouldn’t agree to go out with me.”

“Fair enough. Okay. Well, I originally considered Muggle Studies because it's just familiar and I'm Muggleborn, you know? But then there was Charms . . . And not to brag, but I was always exceptionally good at it and I like it because it makes things convenient, and I like it when things are convenient.”

“Mhm, I guess this is what they meant when they said that Charms professors are charming.”

“And I guess this is what they meant when they said that Potions professors are . . . I don't know how to finish that.”

“I think you mean to say that Potions professors put the chemistry in everything. Seriously, I'm carrying our relationship right now.”

“Ha ha,” she deadpanned.

“Wait, could you do me a favor and not tell Flitwick and Snape about this?”

“Can’t promise that. And it’s Professor Flitwick and Professor Snape.”

Draco finally faced her, but she kept her gaze straight and fixed on the window. There was nothing outside except clouds, and it was calming her enough to keep her hand steady as she reached out to grab the envelope tucked in her cloak, but she put it back quickly before he could see.

“No dating in the workplace, right?”

“Hence my June proposal.”

“I might not be here for 2004.”

“Why not?”

It was only five seconds, but it felt like forever as she felt the burn of the envelope in her cloak pocket. “Draco, I like you. In fact, I liked you until third year, you know.”

“Oh, I knew. You weren’t so discreet, you know.” The two laughed. “Why’d you stop?”

“Eh, well, you were kind of a dipshit so I figured, ‘might as well not’ and here we are now. If someone told twelve-year-old me I’d be here right now, she’d burst like confetti on the spot.”

She expected him to make a ridiculous retort or at least a comment picking fun on her, but he didn’t. Instead, he asked: “Then what’s stopping you now?”

“You only get three questions. Now you have two left. Anyway, well, here.” Hesitantly, she pulled out the envelope and handed it to him. A moment passed until his shoulders slumped. He didn’t look at her.

The contents of the envelope uncovered more than just her worries, for it revealed a fear he never knew he’d have. “You’re leaving Hogwarts to teach in . . . Beauxbatons?”

“You have one question left. It’s only a follow-up letter to check if I’m still on the waiting list.”

“Yeah, but you’d be moving to . . . where is it again? France! It’s just — I mean, why?”

“That’s all the questions you get.” He stiffened, and so she sighed. “I want to travel.”

“Yeah, but you could do that in the summer and this means leaving. Like, literally leaving the country.”

“I’m aware of that. It’s just that I don’t want to be tied down here. I want to see, like, the Louvre Museum or something.

“We have Riverside Museum here in Scotland and the British Museum in—.”

“Draco,” she warned. “See, this is what I meant. I’ve seen both of those already. I’ve been to a whole lot of places here and I want to see something else.”

“I see.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“So you’ll stop whatever you’re trying to do now?”

Draco stood up and walked to the door, not speaking as he did so. He looked the doorway up and down and finally faced her, his hands on the doorknob. “June 2003 is still six months away.” And with a grin, he pulled the door shut.

It could be the alluring glow coming from the windows or the still presence of the castle itself standing on the lonely grounds, but he seemed lovelier to her today than he had ever been.

V. Carpe Diem [June-July 2003]

The last week of June couldn’t have arrived so quickly, and just like the students, she was busy packing her bags. This was possibly the last time she was seeing her office.

Her eyes fell on her desk again.

Would it be wrong if she said that the idea of them on the table wasn’t looking so bad anymore?

Gah! No! Shaking her head, she slammed her chest shut when to her surprise the doors swung open with the same unannounced guest from not so long ago.

“You scared me, Professor.”

“Quit it, school’s over. My name isn’t Professor, so Draco will do.” Laughing, he held out his arm to her. “What do you say? Go out with me?”

“I have to go, Draco.”

[Y/N] walked out of the office, bag in hand when he called out to her.

“You never said no.”

“What?”

“You never said no whenever I asked you. It was always ‘excuse me,’ ‘I gotta go,’ ‘good night,’ or some random excuse that still wasn’t the two letter word and that face you make when you’re actually turned on.”

“Wha — I am not turned on.”

“I’m kidding again.”

She walked over to him. “Then okay, let’s do it.”

“Do — what? Do what? The table thing? That was just a joke because of what you said, I don’t really—”

“No, you idiot. I’m saying I’m willing to go out with you until I get the results.”

“Oh! So we’re — you know?”

“Yeah, where do you wanna go first?”

It took her five steps to realize he was frozen in the same place he stood five steps ago. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just happy,” he answered.

“Wipe it off your face, it looks weird on you.”

“This smile’s staying until the end of time, princess.”

When he caught up with her and they were walking alongside each other, not only did she see a smile but also the glint in his eyes brighter than ever. She still worried about how this was going to end, but it’s only the now, and there’s nothing else that could ruin that.

“Yeah, ground rules: Never call me that again.”

“Why not, princess?”

“Stop testing my patience, Professor.”

“Aw, no! Go back to first-name basis.”

She halted, and so did he. “Wait, I just wanted to make it clear that we can only do this until the end of July, okay?”

He paused, looking at her.

“Draco? Okay?”

“Done deal,” said Draco, and so they walked off.

When they made it to the train, whoops and cheers greeted them. The same kid from Gryffindor held up two thumbs up, and clapping along as they walked past.

They got into a compartment at the end of the train, the two giddy and nervous for what was to come. Their luggage were stashed above them, and it was only the two of them sitting across from each other, sharing knowing looks of excitement.

“You sure you don’t want to do the table thing?” she joked, smiling. The train began to move.

“Eh, I’ll catch feelings.”

“I thought you caught those already.”

“No, I mean I’ll catch them thrice as hard.”

“You know what they say: What’s thrice more, right?”

And they spent the entire ride laughing, reveling in the other’s presence.

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

“Remember, no magic. We can’t risk it,” she said, her hands tucked into her pockets as they walked down the park where a number of other couples walked, some with dogs and some with children and some with just their hearts on their sleeves.

“Well, as it turns out, you are magic. Who knew Professor [Y/L/N] was such a rule breaker?”

She punched his shoulder lightly. “Draco Malfoy, you are the corniest rodent on Earth.”

“Just Earth?”

“Universe, then. Hey, what do you say we go laser tagging?”

“That’s so romantic of you to say, a million times yes!”

On the first week of July, the new couple spent countless times holding hands, walking around, laughing at people they meet who have phony laughs, and everything else normal couples do.

It was perfect, being in love. Everything is beautiful, but more so when you’re in love. Heck, even the pigeon shitting on that little kid’s head is beautiful. It’s like someone picked you up and brought you high above the skies and took you to many places you only used to dream of seeing.

They spent time in her apartment, and she made s’mores for the two of them one night. “D’you want music?” she asked him.

“Yeah, sure.”

She came back to the room with a boombox in hand. “I forgot what tape we put in there but first song that plays will be — forgive me if this is cheesy — our song.”

The intro to Can’t Take My Eyes Off You started playing, and she danced along to the beat.

You're just too good to be true. . .

Can't take my eyes off of you. . .

You'd be like Heaven to touch. . .

“Hey, that’s an old song.”

“I know,” she said, holding out her hand. He took it without any hesitation, and they danced along with laughter in the air every time one failed to follow through with the steps. They were singing along off-key when the song stopped and a different one played.

“It must be because I kinda . . . tried to enchant it a while back — hold on, let me just fix it,” she said, letting go and walking over to the boombox.

You give your hand to me. . .

“No, don’t worry, it’s a good song.”

“Yeah, a sad one. You sure?”

And then you say hello. . .

“Mhm, You Don’t Know Me’s a nice song to dance to despite its depressing lyrics.”

And I can hardly speak. . .

“Cindy Walker and Eddy Arnold are geniuses. This one’s written by Cindy. She sang it too but this one playing right now’s by Eddy, but there are a lot of artists who sang it too. Like Elvis.”

My heart is beating so. . .

“Yeah, yeah, shut up and just keep dancing,” said Draco with a laugh.

And anyone could tell. . .

From a distance, Big Ben sang a loud chime, giving its telltale sign that it was a new hour. But the two people in a tiny apartment among countless other lit windows did not mind, for they were only one more lover in the world for yet another hour, giving as much love they could give.

You think you know me well. . .

Her hand’s rested on his shoulders, and they’re dancing along. Just like songs are sung by various artists, love is given by various people; it’s as if it’s the same thing over and over again, but it’s not — there’s always a note different, a kiss astray, it’s unique because it’s your love and your love alone.

But you don't know me. . .

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

“Shoot that ratty bastard!” she yelled, pointing at the kid in a neon orange shirt, a yellow laser tag gun in hand. He’d never seen her like this before, but this didn’t make him any less keen on loving her. If anything, he was more so in love than before. She faced him, face scrunched up in impatience. “What on Merlin’s rotten earwax are you waiting for?! Go!”

With a smile he’d never done before, he raised his gun to the kid and got him out of the game. [Y/N] cheered right next to him and he couldn’t help but laugh. “This is very brutal of us, you know.”

“Yeah, so we’re twenty-three and we like winning over kids, so what?” she said exasperatedly, laughing.

“This is not a good look on you,” he said in between laughs.

“What? So I’ve been told. Give me a bre— Oh, hell no. Avenge me! Get that kid!”

But the young player got him too anyway, and when they got out of the laser tag place, they went ahead to get some ice cream. “What day is it today?”

“July eighteen.”

“Phew! Just ten more days to go,” said [Y/N] before eating the last of her cone. “Almost there,” she mused excitedly as they walked away to go and fall in line for the rides.

Draco watched the cracked pavement beneath his feet move as they walked, only one thought in his head: Just ten more days to go. Almost there.

He looked back up to her, just thinking of all the things that could happen. What if she got in? What then? What if she didn’t?

The line for the Ferris Wheel in front of them was extremely long, and so he told her he’d be right back to get them both some cotton candy for the ride.

She reckoned he must’ve been gone for a long time, for when he came back, they were third in line. Safe to say that it was worth it, because when you’re way up in the sky, you’d like to eat clouds while you’re at it.

VI. What’s Become of It [July 2003]

Draco could only hear the song playing over and over in his head at the sight of her staring out of his hotel room’s balcony. It’s the twenty-eighth of July already, and his arms are crossed tight as he tried to keep himself steady. He walked over to where she was sitting and sat down right next to her.

“Nervous?” he asked her.

“Very, but also giddy.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered.

[Y/N] turned to him and raised a brow in question, but he only shook his head in response, ‘it’s nothing.’

But it isn’t.

She stood up from her seat to lean on the railing, still waiting for an owl to swoop in. Draco, on the other hand, was still in his seat, looking up at her.

I could do this everyday, he thought to himself. I could look at your face and listen to your voice and hear your snores and never be tired of it.

“Hey,” he called out, and so she then turned around to him with a smile. “Do you ever think of the future?”

“What’s this sudden mushiness, hm? It looks weird on you,” she said with a laugh.

“I know,” said Draco. “But do you?”

She leaned her elbows on the balcony railing. “Eh, well, it’s hard not to. I mean, Beauxbatons! It’s so much different from what I’m used to but I think I’ll ma—”

“No, no, I mean this. I mean us. What, we’ll just be strangers after this?”

Silence. Not completely silence, because the city was bustling like a newly built toy train; more like silence in the sense that it was hard to tell what to say in this situation that their words were stuck in their lungs, and it was hard to breathe what with everything that’s happened and everything that is yet to happen.

“Let’s go inside,” she said with a sigh.

As soon as they closed the door, true silence fell upon them, and it was only the sound of the pizza from last night being reheated in the microwave that could be heard.

“Why are you asking this right now?” she finally said as she rested her hands on her hips.

“What, I can’t ask questions now?”

“Draco, I’m getting the results today, what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m just asking where you see this going.”

“Where I see this going? I think I recall me telling you right from the start that this ends here, right?”

“Yes, I remember that too, but what if you didn’t get it?”

“What?”

“No—just—what if?”

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “There’s no such thing and even if there was, there’s still another one.”

“What do you mean there’s—”

An owl appeared just by the window, and so she had to turn away and open the door to the balcony, from which by there the owl came in, a letter in hand.

Only when the letter was on her hand did she feel a certain kind of burning in her fingertips, wanting to tear it open as wildly as she could. Her eyes went back and forth from the letter and to Draco, who was now eyeing her while holding his breath.

“Moment of truth,” she breathed.

And she opened the envelope. The anticipation grew wider and wider and tighter and tighter and deeper and deeper as she tore it open and pulled out the letter. She unfolded it with a look of both determination and fear, but never hesitation.

Her shoulders slumped. Draco took in a shaky breath. “What does it say?”

“I didn’t get in.” [Y/N] was spiraling. She turned her back to him and ran her hand down her face in disappointment.

“We are sorry to inform you. . .”

She went out to the balcony, looking out the vast landscape as a million thoughts ran through her head, unaware of the man behind her down on one knee with a ring in his hand, looking up at her with hopeful eyes. The wind drew goosebumps on her neck.

When she turned around, her eyes widened at the sight in front of her. What do you say in a situation like this? Is it bad that she wants to say yes?

[Y/N] opened her mouth to speak, but he spoke first, the ring still held up to her.

“Wait, no, hear me out. Marry me. I know it wasn’t as flawless as we thought it would be but you could stay here. You could be a tutor to younger students for when they’re homeschooling! Let me talk first. We’ll talk more about this later and figure it out but you could also just stay at home or come with me to Hogwarts. See? As long as we’re together.”

“You’re making me not work?”

“It could be the other way around, if you want. Just someone to stay at home with the kids and—”

“Kids? Marriage? Draco, that’s not in your plan — that’s not in any of your plans! You don’t want any of those!”

“I’m willing to want all of those for you because all my plans are for you.”

“What about me?” she said breathlessly.

“What do you mean? You are the damned plan! Just please consider it; we could get married right now, it doesn’t have to be grand, let’s just go to city hall and get married.”

“Draco, please don’t do this to me.” She wiped the tears from her face, and he suddenly wished he could vanish. Actually, he could Apparate to somewhere far away, but he didn’t.

“Will you marry me?” he asked again. “Please?”

She was about to open her mouth to speak when another owl stood on the balcony railing, a cream envelope tied to its foot. Time felt like it stretched longer than it should have.

[Y/N] turned away from him, not meeting his eyes as she untied the letter from the owl’s foot. She expected it to leave just like the first one did, but it didn’t. Instead of flying away, it just sat there, watching them.

Draco’s leg was hurting now, but he remained still as he watched her open the envelope. The silence was too loud again.

He watched her with wonder as she read the contents of the letter until she let her hand fall along with the envelope. It almost flew away but she caught it just right before it slipped from her fingers.

She gulped. “I got in to Ilvermorny.”

Draco dropped the ring box, and his heart along with it. His eyes went to the owl, which he realized just now was probably waiting for her to write to the school in answer to the acceptance letter she’d just received.

“Wow, you must be so desperate to get out of here, aren’t you?”

“Draco, what the fuck are you doing with the most beautiful engagement ring I’ve ever seen? I— just— I thought we had an agreement! Just — Why?”

“Because I love you and I want to be with you, is that so much to ask for? Don’t you love me back? Is everything we’ve been through just nothing to you?”

“I do! I do love you!” She was crying now, and it was hard to speak and try to keep yourself together at a time like this. “But I can’t marry you.”

“Why not? If you love me, why can’t you choose me?”

“If you love me, why are you making me choose?” she said, and came the day of the longest time she cried. “It’s been my dream to travel, Draco. Do you want me to stop for you?”

“We could just Apparate there right now if you want to. Or if you really want to leave we could make long distance work, too! We could write letters, use a—”

“That’s not how it works and you know it. My answer right now is a solid no. There.”

“But didn’t you love Hogwarts? Remember? You were so mesmerized and just — if not me, does Hogwarts not mean enough for you to stay?”

“Draco, please.”

He raked his hand through his hair, unsure of what to feel. “You know, I used to think that I didn’t deserve you, but now I’ve realized that you don’t deserve me,” he scoffed. “After all, Professor [Y/L/N] just loves it when things are convenient, right?”

“You— What, you were doing all this in hopes that I’d stay knowing right from the damn start that I was set on leaving?” She gulped, not wanting to believe what was happening right now. “This is stupid. Were you trying to get me to stay?”

“Is it too much to ask for?”

She scoffed as she wiped a tear away from her eyes, her face red. “Goodbye, Draco.”

And she left the room without another word. The floor seemed to be moving under his feet. The world did in fact move; it kept moving even when his heart broke, it kept moving even when a random kid was sentenced to detention, it just kept moving because the world does not stop for heartbreaks and mischiefs.

The microwave dinged just like it should have, and so he stood up to prepare the pizza, later on eating it on his own while staring at the lonely ring box on the floor.

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

There he was on the thirty-first of July, overstaying in his hotel room, lying flat on the wide and empty bed, staring at the smooth ceiling.

But then he found himself on his feet, grabbing the ring box and stuffing the ring itself into his pocket.

He looked and looked until he found a place to buy one of those tasty ring pops.

As he made his way up the stairs of a building he’d been on a lot of times for the past month, a candy ring in hand. A thought occurred to him days prior to today: you can waste your time or love what’s become of it and make it count.

. . .No, you don't know the one. . .

He knocked on the door and kneeled again, this time a candy ring in the ring box, replacing the ring he’d bought the day they went to the theme park.

Who dreams of you at night. . .

The door swung open. She stood with one glow missing, but she was her nonetheless, and that’s all that matters.

And longs to kiss your lips. . .

“Wait! I’m not gonna ask you to marry me, don’t worry,” he said just when she was about to open her mouth. “Will you spend your remaining time with me?”

And longs to hold you tight. . .

“I thought you’d never ask,” she said with the brightest smile she’d ever had, and he stood up to pull her into his arms.

To you, I'm just a friend. . .

And they spent the day just like they did for the past month — laughing and loving, no trace of what had happened just a few days ago. They’ve wasted so much time already, they couldn’t afford to lose any more.

That's all I've ever been. . .

“I’m sorry for all I said back there,” he whispered to her neck as they watched a woman walk her dog across from their bench. He was resting on her shoulder, playing with her fingers.

“I’m sorry, too. I love you, it’s just that I love myself more right now.”

He nodded, and so he went back to humming and swaying lightly along to the song in his head.

But you don't know me. . .

She only laughed as she kissed his forehead. “That dog’s about to shit, be quiet.”

“Way to ruin the moment,” he joked.

“Come on, give me a break.”

For I never knew the art of making love. . .

They went to the beach, walking along the sand just right where the sea could just reach them. The sun was setting so soon just like their love, for she was set to leave later that night.

Though my heart aches with love for you. . .

The two sat on the sand, paying no mind to the sand getting everywhere. They watched the waves crash upon each other elegantly.

“You know, if ever I did say yes, I wouldn’t want to do it in city hall.”

“Yeah?”

Afraid and shy, I let my chance go by. . .

“Mhm, but it doesn’t have to be big, either. I just want my friends to be there.”

“We could have that.”

“We’ve been over this,” she said with a dismissing laugh.

The chance you might have loved me too. . .

“But —”

“Sh. . . Just listen to the waves.” He did.

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

When they returned to her apartment, she immediately brought him up to the roof, telling him to stay there while she went back down to get the same boombox from weeks ago.

“I’m back!” she announced as she put the boombox down on the floor. Draco was leaning on one of the railings of the terrace, and he resisted the urge to make a comment on what she just said and so he resorted to just smiling back at her.

After turning it on, she moved over to him, leaning on the railing just like he did as the song continued to play. “We could actually see the Big Ben from here. A bit far, but we still can. Over there. See?”

“Yeah, I see it.”

“So,” she started, “I’ll be leaving soon. Any last words for me, Professor?”

“Put on your candy ring and dance with me, princess.” He opened the ring box and unwrapped the ring, the two of them laughing as he put on the ring on her finger.

They danced slowly, laughing at the other’s laugh and so on and so forth. She brought her hand up to his cheek, caressing it gingerly as she could.

Draco laughed. “You’re getting candy all over my face.”

“Good, something to remember me by,” she teased. She didn’t bring her hand down, no. “Wait, I want to lick my ring.”

“You gotta do what you gotta do,” he said, grinning as she proceeded to suck on the fake diamond ring, the two of them giggling.

“Oh, it’s grape flavored, nice touch.”

“You could keep the diamond one if you want to,” he said, only to get elbowed lightly by her. They chuckled.

He didn’t mind that her hand was getting his own hand sticky or the fact that the candy was getting a bit of stain on his clothes. He only watched her, refusing to take his eyes off her, taking in what he could before he lost her for real. “[Y/N]?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t want us to part with two bad memories. When you leave, I want to just remember this moment and the best month of my life. I can’t really just forget what happened a few days ago — actually I can because memory charms but you get what I mean — but I don’t think I want the memory of seeing you walk out that door and leaving.”

She paused, looking at him curiously. Big Ben sang a loud chime again, and he turned away to take a good look at the tall and distant tower. It was time.

“You don’t have to,” she said.

He looked back to her. “What?”

[Y/N] let go of him and stopped dancing. She cupped his face before kissing his forehead. She turned up the music louder so he wouldn’t hear her Apparating.

. . .You give your hand to me. . .

“Pick a number,” she told him with a grin.

“Alright, uh, any? Okay, seven.”

“Okay, close your eyes and count to seven.”

And then you say goodbye. . .

He obeyed and closed his eyes. “One.”

[Y/N] watched him, taking in the last she’d ever see of him as the song continued to play. “Two.”

I watch you walk away. . .

She walked over to the door, lingering as she watched the most adorable face she’d ever laid her eyes on. She thinks back to their third year together. “Three.”

Beside the lucky guy. . .

If she’d just made the effort of talking to him, maybe they would’ve had a longer time together. “Four.”

To never, never know. . .

She took a step backward, looking back at him once more. She’s thankful he picked a longer number, glad for the extra time she had to look at him one last time even just for a few more seconds. “Five.”

The one who loves you so. . .

Maybe if she’d given in earlier, there would’ve been much more memories, more moments to laugh about today. “Six.”

No, you don't know me. . .

A moment’s hesitation. As she watched his mouth twitch, she realized she wouldn’t have it any other way. And with one last look, she disappeared just as he opened his eyes.

“Seven.” He stood there, neck and clothes sticky from the candy, the real ring stuffed in his pocket. He ran his fingers through his hair.

He let a deep breath. “You can come out now,” he said jokingly, a tinge of torment in his tone. It’s hopeless, for she’d long gone. The only thing he could do was go back to the railing, staring at the small figure from the distance that is the Big Ben. “I should’ve picked the number three for leverage. Good luck, [Y/N].”

And he picked up the boombox still playing the song and walked out of there with a forlorn smile.

EPILOGUE: Another Time [June 2005]

Most of the time we meet people we don't know would be the very cause of getting to that something big in our lives: In a dark office sits a man in his mid-twenties, fidgeting with his creaking desk drawer, glancing at the velvet box resting innocently in the corner of it.

The man pulls it out completely until it halted just shy of falling off the desk itself and he only eyes it with what one could only assume is contempt, possibly for time being the only thing in the way — time, the most bitter thing of all.

He refuses to go so far as touch it, and so he pushes the drawer back. He stands up from his chair and walks over to his last class for the year.

He bids his students farewells for the holidays, and he goes off to pack his stuff, during which he finds himself contemplating whether or not to bring the ring he still keeps around in his desk.

Should I bring it? he asks himself for the umpteenth time that day. If I do, I'll throw it on the train ride home.

Somewhere in a peeling chair of a booth beside the window of a busy diner three thousand miles away, however, rests a young woman of the same age making herself comfortable as she takes off her coat while waiting for her pancakes. Her chin's on her palm, and she's desperate to find a place to stay for the summer. At the far end of the diner beside the lone booth stands a faulty jukebox and a young couple probably in their teenage years, two of whom are dancing along to a song she's heard before.

“You're just too good to be true,” sings the teenage girl.

“Can't take my eyes off you,” the boy sings back in reply, seemingly hesitant but in love (and foolish) enough to do so anyway. The two then starts to dance to the jolly instrumental.

Sighing, the woman leaves without another word, paying no mind to the pancakes she'd just ordered and forgetting the coat she'd just left in her seat where a plastic ring hid in one of the pockets.

On her way out, she began to hear a different song from the thrift store across the street from the diner.

. . .And anyone can tell. . .

Different singer, same song. She walked over to the store.

You think you know me well. . .

Strangely enough, it’s a lovely new version. After all, 2005 could use a different stroke of color. In this case, it’s Michael Buble singing a song that held a special place in her heart. With a smile, she went on her way.

But you don't know me. . .

Fate has to be one of the funniest thing ever, because however brutal it may be, it always finds a way to make every tear one has shed worth it. A fair example for this would be the coat with a plastic ring hidden in one of its pockets she unknowingly left in the diner, and the long string of events that follows that gets it three thousand miles away to London and into the hands of the very person who gave the candy ring.

Who’s this said person? Only the very man who’s debating on whether or not to bring a diamond ring he’d bought years before. Update on him: He left it there again.

Why? Because he’s saving it for another time, which is hopefully soon.

Whenever that is.

Draco Malfoy Taglist: @mauvea @maybanksslut @hey-there-angels @elevatorsdoor @mrzweasley @gwlvr @marrymetheonott @sexysirius @the-moon-and-starss @turn-to-page-394-please @henqtic @badass-yn @gaycatlord-stuff @crazy-beautiful @dlmmdl @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts @mjoubertt-1 @dreamy-clousds

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