Thursdays Of Dark Grey Skies; H.p.

thursdays of dark grey skies; h.p.

pairing: harry james potter x ravenclaw!fem!reader

synopse: who would have thought that one study thursday of dark grey skies could change so much?

warnings: none, just fluff

word count: 5.8k words

a/n: i’m so soft, i genuinely loved writing this. enjoy!

The sky was grey.

And it wasn't your typical is-raining-soon-light-gray type of colour, it was a dark shade of grey that stained the sky. There was no rain, there was no wind, it was just- dark. Like the night was trying to break out sooner than planned, fighting the light out of the day. For an early october thursday afternoon, the grayish weather shouldn't feel this uncommon. This captivating. But it just gave (ironically) such light to everything within the dark air reach. It was strangely so beautiful. Harry was at the library with practically everyone he knows when he looked outside of one of the windows. And when he says 'practically everyone he knows' he really means the whole castle was in there. Thursdays afternoons are homework and study afternoons. You catch up with any subject you could be behind, you finish all the work that was due friday (which happened more often than not) and your weekend would be mostly free. It was the most practical plan for the academic life of most students, as Hermoine had once said. So, the Hogwarts library was the place for the fourth day of the week. The environment created there was, to put it simply, those that made you work harder. Everyone shared the same goal; all the students from all years, all the students from all houses. Almost every table was occupied, and some even had to be conjured in the middle and left side of the room, the places that had more students. Red, yellow, green and blue were mixed around and a friendly and calm atmosphere flew above them. Despite being packed, the noise wasn't too loud. Quiet chatter and laughs could be heard, but nothing too extreme. Madame Prince had long ago quitted shushing students everytime one made any type of sound. It just felt right to be in there. Even more so when the big windows that contorned one of the sides of the enormous room showed the magical view of the dark grey sky. And because the light outside was mostly dim, candles flew all over the room to give enough light to work with. And as Harry looked around he felt content. He was seated in one of the newly conjured tables, a little to the right from the middle, so he had a pretty good view of the room in general. Ron was now discreetly discussing with a Hufflepuff named Ernie MacMillan and Seamus about the excessive amount of work Snape gives them, their potions assignment long forgotten. Fred, George and several of their other friends sat in another table close by, trying to finish their transfiguration project without the twins and Lee destroying anything. Luna was drawing, humming quietly, with Ginny reading just beside her, and Hermoine was helping Dean on the essay of History of Magic along with Daphne Greengrass from Slytherin. Harry had already finished all of his homework for this week (a first in his whole life). He had his arms crossed and leaned back on his chair, now observing the intriguing dark sky. The lazy light coming from the candles complemented beautifully the colour of the clouds. Harry would laugh and talk quietly every now and then with those around him, now being completely relaxed with the new work-free feeling that would linger for a few days. He was just back to looking at the window again when something caught his eye. In the very far corner of the library, on the right side of the room, was someone writing calmly in a piece of parchment with some books laying around. And after a few seconds, Harry recognised the person; it was you. You hadn't talked much in your past school years. Truth to be told, it wasn’t that common for Gryffindor's and Ravenclaw's to have classes together, so it all depended on your social luck to befriend one another. But Harry did know who you were. You were in the same year as him, obviously sorted into Ravenclaw, and basically the most beautiful girl Harry has ever seen. Your hair seemed slightly darker because of the light, but your eyes were shining like the little fire of the candles floating around was being reflected within them, and your cute nose was scrunched up ever the slightest in concentration. He then noticed that your legs were crossed beneath you and your feet would sometimes wigle. Not wanting to seem like a creep, Harry teared his eyes from the adorable girl, looking down at his table with a small grin plastered on his features. "She is the cutest, isn't she? " Hermoine said, nudging Harry with a knowing smirk on her face. "What? " Harry snapped his head at his best friend's direction (almost breaking his neck I'm the process), eyes widening. "Y/N. I study with her sometimes. Love her, " now she was just shamelessly messing with him. "Who does Hermoine love? " questioned Ron from the other side of the table, his eyebrows raised as he looked around. "Ron no-" "Y/N. Harry was staring at her. Someone has a crush, " Dean responded with a sing-like voice and a huge grin. The mouth of the boy in question was hanging open by now. "Harry has a crush on who?! " Fred Weasley exclaimed a little too loudly, attracting the attention of almost everyone at their tables. "Shush! " hissed Madame Prince from afar. Harry sighed and banged his head on the table. He really should get new friends. "That Ravenclaw girl! Harry always gushes about her when we get out of DADA with Ravenclaw, " Seamus laughed. "That is so adorable! Ah, young love..." George squealed. Harry tried to go under the table and hide but Hermoine pulled him back almost immediately, making the bespectacled boy scowl. "Don't you guys have any other stuff to do that doesn't concern my love life?" Harry exclaimed indignantly, earning yet another reprimand from Madame Prince. "You're just salty because you know how many guys and girls have their eyes on Y/L/N, " muttered a smirking Ron. "Why won't you talk to her, Harry? " asked Neville rather innocently. Harry looked at you again. Why wouldn't he talk to her? Well, because first- he was awkward; second- what if you didn't want to talk to him?; and third- what would he even say? You continued to write calmly, almost lazily, over the piece of parchment. Harry noted that your hair continued slightly darker, your eyes still shiny, your nose still a little scrunched up, and your feet would still wigle sometimes. And just like that Harry had a small grin again, completely forgetting all about the pairs of eyes on him. "Completely whipped, " whispered Dean to Hermoine. Eventually, they all went back to their tasks, leaving Harry once again alone with his thoughts while looking out of the window. Harry wanted to meet you. He wanted to know your likes and dislikes, what you do when you're anxious or stressed, and find out if you always wiggle your feet when you're sitting. He wanted to know if you were just as attracted to this type of weather as Harry was, or if you preferred sunny days. So, with all of his Griffindor's courage he could gather, he stood up. Harry firstly took off his robes, which were starting to get uncomfortable for a while now, and rolled the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows. His clothes were a hot mess (quite literally); his vibrant red tie was loose on his neck and his shirt was ruffled, the top of it unbuttoned, as Harry always felt claustrophobic when clothes were too tight on him, and one of the sides of the shirt practically untucked from his black trousers. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to tidy it up a little, but the raven black locks stayed as messy as ever. He then adjusted his black rimmed new glasses, oblivious as ever from the intense stares of the boys and girls that were close enough to see the green eyed boy. Taking a deep breath, he started his way towards you. "Hi, " Harry said hesitantly, looking down at you. When you looked up, your heart race picked up significantly . The boy was none other than Harry James Potter. Harry, the cutest and the most adorable boy to ever exist (and one of the hottest, to be honest). You felt a strange tingling sensation in your belly as you took in the careless situation his white shirt was in, his loose tie, the rolled up sleeves, and his messy hair. You also noted that Harry had new glasses. His cheeks were a little flushed, and he was biting his lower lip. If possible, your heart started to beat even faster and you were sure your cheeks were no better than Harry's. Harry, unsurprisingly, didn't really notice that you were practically checking him out, thanks to his nerves, and took your silence the wrong way and panicked. "I'm sorry, It's just that I saw you here alone, and you're really pretty- I mean! The tables's pretty! Yes, very nice strong shiny wood, such a good table, really. " You blinked at him. "And the sofa. Must be so so comfortable this sofa. I see why you like it; it's big and warm and it seems like a really good place to take a nap, " Harry continued his ramble, apparently not being able to stop, and getting more nervous and flustered as he talked. He could just feel the group's hysterics from behind; Ron's uncontrollable laughter and Dean's wheeze, Neville's uncertain thumbs up and Seamus smirk. Harry was pretty sure that Hermoine was facepalming and he was terrified of all the teasing from the twins and Ginny he would have to endure once this nightmare was over. He didn’t even want to imagine what his friends and classmates from the other houses were thinking (probably that his awkwardness was too embarrassing and that they would have a good laugh when telling their own other friends, but it didn't matter). "I'm sorry, I'm just going to go– " Harry started to turn around when a hand stopped him. "No! No, I'm sorry, I was just surprised, " you interrupted, quickly standing up and grabbing Harry's arm, pushing him back. Your hand continued to gently grab his wrist, getting unconsciously closer to his hand at each passing second. Your noses were just a few inches apart as well as your bodies, aching to get just a little bit closer. Harry was sure that his heart had exploded by now and he was just a very alive magical breathing zombie, while you feared that your legs were losing its strength and energy. Harry's hand wanted to touch your waist, but it refrained from doing so, fearing that you wouldn't be comfortable with it. "Besides, I wouldn't want to destroy your dreams and not invite you to sit on this really good sofa. " Harry was stunned for a moment at your unexpected teasing and then laughed the most quietly he could, remembering that you were still at the library with hundreds of other students. And with the help of your shy smile and warmth, as well as the calm environment they were in, Harry started to relax, the bad nervous and insecure feeling slipping away. "I'm Harry, " he breathed. You were still close to him. Almost too close. "Y/N, " you answered just the same, glancing up at his handsome face with a, in Harry's most unbiased opinion, precious small grin. After a few seconds of staring at each other, you both pull slightly apart and sit down on the sofa. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Mr. Potter?" you joked, leaning back to the corner of the sofa, trying to keep your nerves in check. "Well, maybe the infernal teasing from my idiots of friends back there? And you seemed like good company, " Harry responded, leaning back too, turning his head so he could see you. "I'm flattered, but they seem so much fun," you wondered. "Hm, they are. For the majority of time at least. " You turned momentarily your eyes to the parchment over the table. You were writing next week's assignment for History of Magic (you convinced Professor Binn to tell you beforehand) but now you wanted to take a break. You wanted to enjoy Harry's company while it lasted. "How come you're not working or studying? It must be a first in study thursday, " you asked, looking at Harry again, just to see that his eyes were already on you. "For the first time in my life, I'm not behind anything, and already finished my potions assignment with Hermoine's help... So I was just there looking at the window and, well, you know the rest, " said Harry. The big window came all the way down to the far corner Harry and you were in. The new duo was tucked in the corner of the sofa, and had the most perfect view to the outside. You had her back almost turned completely to the window and the wall that met just behind the pillows laying around over the dark red velvet sofa. Harry now noticed that there was a huge red and black squared blanket folded between the cushions and your robes, which looked like they were thrown rather clumsily aside. "How come I've never seen this place? It's way bigger and comfier than the other sofas and tables in here, " Harry frowned. The naps he could have had in here, hiding from Hermoine when she went crazy. You laughed lightly. "Madame Prince is a family friend, so she arranged this place when I came here. Which is more often than not... " you trailed off, noticing Harry puppy's eyes directed at the cushions and her blanket. "Honestly, what is your problem with furniture? Do you fall in love with it every time you see it? " you asked, amusement lacing your voice. Harry snapped his head back at you. "What?! No! " he exclaimed, a little embarrassed. "But this sofa really is the best, truly. I think you'll have a hard time getting rid of me now, " Harry grinned, adjusting his glasses. You had to almost physically stop yourself from fawning over the bewitching boy. "Well, you are now welcome everytime. I could use some company, " you said, feeling giddy. You smiled at each other. "Even if you only come here because of the strong and shiny wood table and the really good sofa and pillows. " "Y/N!" . You and Harry spent the next hour and a half talking and laughing (mostly quietly) with one another. You were just so happy with one another that you didn't want the day to end, afraid that your bond would suddenly disappear. You eventually opened your blanket because it was starting to get too chilly in the library to ignore, even with the flaming fireplaces. The two of you were now tucked in in the blanket, leaning against the many cushions against the line where the window and the wall would meet. Your shoulders, legs and arms were brushing under it, but neither of you made a single move to change that. The room was still packed, seeing that it was still technically early, but not for much longer, as dinner time was slowly approaching. "I absolutely love this weather. It's even more magical than Hogwarts itself," Harry sighed. "Didn't know Potter boy had now become weather boy, " you giggled. "Oh, fuck off, " he laughed, nudging your shoulder with his. "But really, I just love it. I think this dark grayish colour is my new favourite. Just after the colour of your eyes, of course, " Harry grinned. "Oh my, someone save me from this corny weather boy, please!" you mumbled dramatically. "But, honestly, it's my favourite too. I'm really hoping for it to rain tonight."  "Yeah, me too. It's one of the best feelings ever, " Harry said foundly. You frowned. "It's just so pretty. I don’t understand how some people don't like it." "Well, not everyone can have good taste, Y/N. Imagine if everybody liked treacle tart? A total tragedy, " Harry sighed in content, imagining one piece of his favourite dessert. He then pouted. "Now I'm hungry. Thank you very much, Y/L/N. " You laughed. You sure seemed to do that a lot with Harry around, and the butterflies in your belly were still yet to fly away. "It's almost dinner time, anyway. So don't worry much, I'll save you one tart when we get there, " you rolled your eyes. Harry's face fell, and he looked at the rest of the library. There was more noise now, almost everyone was exiting the room or cleaning their things up, heading towards the Great Hall. His friends were still at his previous table, some getting up and stretching (Harry could almost swear he heard Dean's back crack all the way to where he was sitting with you) and others making sure everything was in place. "Already?" He asked in a small voice, making you freak out over how cute the boy looked at the moment. Harry's eyebrows were furred and his pout grew even bigger. His pupils were so dilated that you almost couldn't see his green irises. He was sad and disappointed that he had to leave you and your spot, and you couldn't help but feel giddy at the thought. "Harry, " you called with your eyebrows raised, a smirk plastered on your face, "As much as your lost little puppy face amuses me, we should get going. I too want treacle tart, so let's go, " you teased, starting to put everything in your navy blue bag. "But Y/NNN, " Harry whined, dragging your name. "I am so comfortable right now. Don't want to get up. " "Are you always this dramatic?" you asked, crossing your arms. Harry gave you a lopsided grin, "Did you know that they say that my dad and Padfoot were total drama queens? Must be the genes." You cackled. You weren't even really sure of what, or who he was talking about but it didn't make it less funny. You pushed him off the sofa, yanking the blanket from him and shoving it into your bag, ignoring his protests. You swung your bag over one shoulder and looked up at Harry. "Ready?" Harry mumbled, "Could've at least let me keep the blanket..." You started to walk away, shaking your head, and Harry quickly followed you. "Honestly, Potter, we don't have all night!" "Hey- wait f'me!" Harry exclaimed, hurring to get to you. You just giggled in response, and the two of you made your way to the Great Hall. . Both you and Harry had to endure much teasing and many questions from their respective friends. Harry had his face hidden in his hands, wanting to evaporate out of there. You would play with your rings and roll your eyes at any stupid question. You rolled your eyes quite often. After the initial shock, the whispers and glances had started, annoying you profusely. Can't people just mind their own business? you thought.

Harry wanted to hide under the table, and he had now decided that he should really really really get new friends. Fortunately, the curious stares (at least the obvious ones) eventually stopped. Harry caught your eyes a few times and he made a silly face everytime that happened. You replied every time with another one, enjoying your new 'game'. When the desserts started to appear on the tables, you immediately took two pieces of one of the treacle tarts and lifted your plate excitedly as soon as you and Harry made eye contact again. Harry smirked, and lifted his own plate, showing you three pieces there.

One for you and two for me! he mouthed. You bursted out laughing, shaking your head and shoved a bit of the sweet into your mouth. As for Harry, treacle tarts never tasted better. But this didn't go unnoticed. Especially not the teachers table. Professor Flitwick started a whole bank of bets about his new pair; he and Fred and George Weasley would associate soon enough. "I just know they will be together by January,"  he whispered to himself. "Oh, don't be ridiculous, Filius. Christmas is their time, believe me," answered Professor McGonagall, having heard him clearly even over the room's noise. "February, " piped in Dumbledoor dreamily. "Or never, " grumbled Snape. Professor Sprout threw her water at him. Not long after dinner time had ended, the students went to their respective common room. You and Harry met at the bottom of one of the moving stairs, trying to get ready to go your own way. Ron, Hermoine and a few others waited for him a little far away, not wanting to wait for the teasing to continue. Awkward and flustered Harry was one of their favourites. "Well... I guess I'll see you around," you said, adjusting your bag while looking up at the fidgeting boy. "Yeah..." Harry trailed off, glancing around. He was hitting himself internally for being so lame. "Harry. " you called, lifting your hand to Harry's face so he would face her, thanking everything you knew for your newfound confidence. "Thank you for going to see me at the library. I am really glad you did," you smiled softly. "I am glad, too, " he whispered. Harry then grasped your hand, which was still in his face, and stroked the back of it for a bit. "Good night, Y/N." He eventually said, grinning at your red face. You huffed and pulled your hand away just to push him slightly back. "Don't get all mushy now, you wanker!" "Ah, you wished, Y/L/N, " Harry retorted, starting to walk back to his friends. He then looked at you again. "See you around!" "See you, " you waved and went back to your own friends. . It had been almost three months since that thursday evening, and you Harry really did see each other round. The duo became almost inseparable, if someone saw you, you would see Harry Potter not far away, and where you saw Harry you would see you close by. You had become very close with the rest of the Griffindor's. Harry eagerly introduced you to them a few days after you officially met, and you were welcome with open arms. As for Harry, he was quite nervous when meeting the other Ravenclaw's, but with your help, he soon made new friends with them too. The two of you, despite all of the circumstances, would always make time for one eachother everyday. Be it just relaxing by the black lake, studying at your spot in the library, or messing around the corridors. You had built a beautiful friendship in a very short period of time, and that both scared and amazed you. It was all just so natural. It was all just like it should be. Most said you were secretly dating. After all, you were always touching each other. Arms around the other shoulder or waist, sometimes holding hands, the occasional kisses in cheeks, forehead, head, and the frequent hugs. It all started when you noticed how touch starved Harry was. So, you first started to do small things when you two were alone; grab his hand, lean your head on his shoulder, linger a little longer in your before short awkward hugs. So, when you asked Harry if and how comfortable he was with your affections, and then if you could display them in public, you received a very excited nod from Harry and a very tight hug, as well as a kiss on your head.  

After that, neither of you stopped your affections. Feelings soon developed after your friendship blossomed, but neither you nor Harry acted on it. You liked how things were, you liked your intimate uncomplicated friendship. And besides, you thought that the others' feelings were purely platonic, afraid of rejection. Hermoine and Ron had yelled at the both of you because of it more often than not. It was almost Christmas time, and you couldn't wait for it. You would be seeing your family for the first time in a while, and then you would finally meet the rest of Weasleys, as Ron had invited you to spend the rest of the holiday at his house. When you knew that both Harry and Hermoine were going too, you couldn't help but say yes. Just a few more days. It was thursday again, and because of your now finished tests and exams, you and Harry decided to ditch the study day to spend the afternoon at the black lake. It was nostalgic. The afternoon was just the same as the day you had met, except this time the sky seemed even darker. There was still no wind, and there was still no rain, only the dark sky and the winter cold air. Harry had his back against one of the trees close by, and you were snuggled up to him, trying to block out the cold, even though the you two were under your warm red and black squared blanket. Harry's strong arms were wrapped around your figure perfectly, making you relish the fuzzy feeling that went through your bodies, as you both tried to get comfortable.

Your hair was pulled into a careless bun to keep it out of your face. A fluffy scarf was wrapped around your neck, and you had previously discarded your robe into a shorter and warmer dark blue cape. Your nose and cheeks were flushed with the cold temperature, but you could've sworn you had never felt so warm before. In your gloved hands was a securely held book, and you tried to get lost in its world. Which was very very difficult when Harry was just behind you, holding you, being the adorable boy he was. He had a black beanie in his head and some of his messy raven locks escaped underneath it. His nose and cheeks were pink as well, making his green eyes stand out. Harry wore a dark blue (almost black) hoodie which was a little big on him, but you almost died of how cute it looked on him. For the past half an hour, not much was spoken between you two. You wanted to just finish that chapter, and Harry was trying his best to not disturb you (although it was quite difficult for him to stay still). He first stared a little at you, as you were too beautiful to not to. Then, he read the book with you for a while, but quickly got distracted by the weather. It entranced him, just like in that day at the library. If he could, he would look at it for hours. Harry didn't notice when you closed your book, adjusted the blanket around you more tightly and looked up at him. Only when you lifted your hand to cup one of his flushed cheeks did Harry snap out of his trance. Harry leaned into your touch. "Hello there," he gave you a boyish smile. "Hi, weather boy," you grinned. You stroked his cheek slowly while your other hand reached for his crooked glasses. "I thought we agreed to not talking about that again," Harry frowned. But he wasn't really upset by it, if the amusement in his eyes were anything to go by. You shrugged. "You were making heart eyes at it again." "Well, it's just like the day we met! Remember?" Harry asked, wiggling his eyebrows. "Of course I do. Such a special day. The day I found out that the Harry James Potter fell in love with couches and tables." you said, trying to keep a straight face. But when Harry gave you the most done look you had ever seen, you bursted out laughing. "You will never let that go, will you?" Harry huffed, turning his face to the opposite side from you. "Never," you said. However, when you saw his pout, you couldn't resist and leaned to kiss his jaw. "But, honestly? It was one of the most important days of my life." Harry turned to you. "Why?" he asked curiously. "Because I got to meet the one who would become my favourite person," you smiled softly. Harry's heart was practically bursting out of his chest and he was very worried that you could hear it. He could only stare into your eyes, and the need to taste you was becoming too unbearable for him. A minute passed. Then two. And Harry finally opened his mouth. "I really want to kiss you right now, " he breathed. Your mind went almost completely blank, a very rare occurrence. All you knew was- one, if you were standing right now your legs would have probably given you up; two, the strange feeling in your belly was starting to become a little too intense; and three, you really wanted to kiss him too. It didn't take much for you to answer. "So why don't you?" You met half ways, neither was sure of who moved first. Your mouths were just pressing each other softly, relishing on the new mind-blowing feeling. Harry's lips were slightly chapped because of the cold and they moulded perfectly against your soft ones. It was a soft, innocent peck that lingered for some time. Harry pulled apart after a few seconds, opening his eyes and looking into yours. Harry's breathing was uneven matching your breathy one. And in one quick and craving move, you kissed again. Your hands were on Harry's chest, moving them in an up-and-down motion. Harry grabbed you by the torso and pulled you onto his lap, trying to get you as close as possible. This time, the kiss was passionate, almost desperate, as your mouths moved against each other. Neither cared about the air necessity; you didn't want to pull away, and Harry didn't really care if the oxygen in his lungs ended. Harry brushed his tongue against your bottom lip, making youpart them. Your tongues involved with one another, fighting for dominance. Your teeth would sometimes clash but not in a painful way, it was in a hungry one. You eventually gave up and let Harry explore your mouth. You focused now on the feeling of his body pressed on you; his well built (thank Merlin for quidditch) yet slim body. You travelled your hands up to his neck and your fingers played with the hairs that escaped the beanie on the nape of it. You then threw the beanie to where your book was lying, and ran your hands through his locks, no doubt making them even more messy. When your lungs were finally burning too much, you pulled away just enough for you to trail hot-mouthed kisses from the corner of Harry's mouth, to his jaw and his neck. Harry leaned his head slightly back so you could continue to leave kisses on his exposed skin. He was breathing hard, and he gripped his arms around your waist and torso for stability. His mouth was slightly agape, and he definitely wasn't much cold anymore. Harry didn’t even notice until now that the navy blanket fell just around your waists, keeping the lower part of your bellies and legs warm. You trailed her kisses back to his lips, leaving one chaste kiss there before pressing your forehead against Harry’s. Your breaths were ragged and neither of you had the energy just yet to open their eyes. A few minutes later, your eyes fluttered open and you saw Harry already staring at you with a small smile on his face. You didn’t really know what to say. Should you say thank you? Or confess your feelings for the boy. But wasn't it obvious? Well, Harry really could be very oblivious sometimes. Maybe you should just run and move out of the castle. You have always wondered what Beauxbatons looked like, maybe you could go there. But your thoughts were interrupted when Harry sighed. "You're so pretty," he whispered, as if talking would be too loud and ruin your moment. You chuckled. "I am going to be honest, this was the most unexpected thing I could have thought of when I woke up this morning, and I don't really know what to think, " you said, brushing your nose with Harry’s. "Oh, hm, was-was it bad? I-I'm sorry, didn’t mean to-" Harry started to ramble, and tried to pull away. "No! No, Merlin Harry, I'm sorry, didn’t mean to make you feel bad!" you rushed to say, and hugged him closer. "It was really perfect, I just don't know what this means for us now, you know? It's a little scary, that's all." Harry leaned in and brushed your lips together. He gave you a light kiss before pulling back with the most gorgeous smile you had ever seen. "Well, it would be a little awkward if now you said you didn’t like me back, but I'm pretty sure your mouth was saying something really different not even five minutes ago, so-" "You're a complete idiot, did you know that Harry Potter?" you exclaimed in disbelief. "Your idiot now." You looked like a little kid on Christmas. "My idiot." You snuggled against Harry's chest, being now turned sideways on his lap, and leaned your forehead into the junction of his neck and shoulder. Harry's arms were still closely wrapped around you. You then pulled the blanket up again, making sure it covered all of your bodies, trying to keep the warmth that didn't escape. Harry looked up at the clouds. The dark grey colour still stained them, and little drops of rain met the ground timidly. He didn’t notice when it had started raining thanks to the tree you and Harry were currently leaned on. The smiles on your faces didn't seem to want to leave. It seemed the same. Just like that thursday at the library, as if nothing had changed. But things really did change, and in the most unique and pure way possible. Harry returned his attention to the girl in his arms and hugged you tighter. A content sigh left his lips as he closed his eyes. Here he was, in his favourite place, his home; in Hogwarts, with this magic sky above him, almost protecting him from all his nightmares just because of it's magic aura, with you in his arms. How he got so lucky? He wasn't quite sure. But he finally was happy. Thank Merlin for thursdays, especially the ones with dark grey skies.

*dies because this is too adorable*

First off, my darling Anon you are a cruel one to challenge me this early into the year to write a fluff. But, I'm not gonna let you down and I'm going to try to do this BUT I'M SORRY IF IT'S NOT SATISFACTORY, LOVE. And thank you for sending a request <3

𝑱𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝑷𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 (𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓)

It was a rowdy night, and everyone was high on firewhisky and probably the blunt that Remus brought in earlier.

The Gryffindor team just won another Quidditch Cup this year. And as it was their last year on Hogwarts too, they wanted to spend as much as they could having fun and wrecking havoc undetected ofc bcs who tf had the audacity to sabotage their chance of winning their very last House Cup? Well, you being you felt like all these celebrations were slowly becoming too much for you to handle, so you decided to snuck through the Lady Portrait and tip-toeing your way down to the kitchens. 

It was very weird, walking through the halls at night. There's these indescribable feelings of melancholy and also sadness that crept inside of you. These walls… they held stories of the old days, decades and even centuries behind them. And sometimes it felt really surreal that you were there, standing between those walls, you made a name for yourself, being a part of the history that was written there. It was all like a dream. But it's all coming to an end, as it was 5 months away from your graduation day. 

As you were passing by one of the large windows, you had to stop for a second and stare because there he is, James Potter. He and you have always been friends with each other. Sure, you're not as popular nor outgoing like all of his group of friends, and that fact always made you wonder but he would always reassure you that it was okay and he doesn't care, he only cared about being friends with you. So here you are, confused as to why this boy isn't mingling with the crowds upstairs, but instead sitting here in the dark all by himself.

"Jamie?" You whispered, silently hoping that it was loud enough for him to hear, but not too loud because you didn't want to surprise him. He perked up at the sound of your voice and he turned his head to you, "Hey darling. Fancy seeing you out here, hm?".

You just fondly shook your head and decided to sit next to him. And as natural as it was, he moved his arm to put it around your shoulder and you just snuggled closer to him in response. "Whatcha doin here, Jamie?" you whispered to the fabric of his clothes. He just quietly hummed to the crown of your head and held you closer. 

It's time like this, you were left wondering about what you had with him. Sure both of you could be seen together from time to time, not as much as he was with the boys no. But you were friends as long as he was with them, too. And lately he's been very affectionate with you. Not that he wasn't before, it's just that… usually he only does that when there's only two of you. But now it's gotten more open and your friends have been asking you questions that you were really not sure how to answer either.

You've no idea how much time the both of you had spent just sitting there, watching the stars. It was all so calming. The gentle breeze that would occasionally caress both of your hairs, the gentle hum of hopelessly devoted to you  that emitted from his chest vibrates into yours, and the little light that slowly flickered on the corridor— wait? Oh sHI—

"STUDENTS! STUDENTS OUT OF BED!!" 

James and you immediately stumbled out of reverie and scrambled out of your seats to run away from Filch and his little kitty cat. Not caring about the consequences, both of your laughters rang throughout the whole corridor as you ran. But once you reached the moving staircase, instead of jumping to the one that would lead you to your common room, James dragged you to the one that would lead to the west wing of Hogwarts. But you just went with him, thinking that he would just take you to Astronomy tower.

But your assumption has proven you wrong once James stopped in front of an empty wall across the painting of Barnabas the Barmy. You just looked at him in confusion and asked, "Jamie, why'd you take me here?" James turned his body to you and grabbed both your hand in his,

"D'you trust me?" You raised one of your eyebrow up and tsked, " Does the centaur live in the Forbidden Forest? Does Sirius love Remmy? Does it hurt when I crawl my way up from hell? Jamie love, you're asking me a silly  question. Of course I do" and in response, he conjured a little black satin eye cover and made a gesturing move towards your eyes. You just snorted nervously and playfully push him back, " 'm not into that kinky stuff like Sirius does, J" which caused him to just grin and peck your cheek which left you frozen on the spot.

"C'mon bunny, where's the Gryffindor courage hmm?"

And in that moment of euphoria his kiss left you, you decided to throw all cautions to the window and,

" Y'want some Gryffindor courage hm? I'll show you some courage"

And as those words left your lips, you grabbed the collars of his white button up shirt and dragged him to your height only to smash your lips together.

Both of you knew as James reciprocated your kiss, that this is it. This was the thing that both of you have been waiting for for years. Each time spent together, each kisses left on your temple, his jaw, your cheeks, his forehead, has led to this singular moment that would be captured in time inside the walls of this castle. 

But the moment was ruined as a flash and a click of a camera was heard. You stumbled back as James tried to steady you with his hands on your hips. Both of you heard Sirius before he even made an appearance as his chuckles echoed on the empty corridor.

"Hey Blossom, thanks for the honorary mention of my love for moony, but CAN'T YOU JUST WAIT FOR A SECOND FOR THE KISS?? WE'VE BEEN SLAVING OURSELVES HELPING PRONGS TO GET THE ROOM READY AND Y'JUST—" 

His tirade then just got cut off short to the courtesy of Remus who just dragged him into a full blown snog against the wall. Your eyes widen as Sirius' words register in your brain.

"Jamie? What room is he ta—" all the words left your mouth as you see James standing there in front of a beautifully decorated room that clearly wasn't there before. James just chuckled lightly seeing your face and asked, "well, would ya like a dinner with me, then bunny?" with his puppy eyes that you could never resist.

"Well, if you insist then, My dear Jamie" you grinned up at him. He then linked your arm with him and led you to the center of the room where there stood an elegant dining table with candles surrounding the area. And as you took a glance at your James, you knew at that moment that you're going in for one hell of a ride, with this young man. But there's nothing in this world that would change your mind about choosing him. Ever.

☼︎𝒇𝒊𝒏☼︎

I LOVE THIS SM <333

Dog Days (TASM!Peter Parker x Reader)

Summary: You might have been ever so slightly perturbed about Peter seeing you in your underwear if he wasn’t sporting a large cut along his jawline; one that looked achingly fresh.

“Did you shave with a machete this morning?” You asked, stepping out of the doorway and making room for him to enter.

“A scythe, actually,” Peter deadpanned.

Words: 2.4k

A/N: Andrew Garfield!Spiderman; friends to lovers; heated make-out; cursing; minor injury; mutual pining; possible part 1 of 2? characters are in college & of age.

It was hot. That sticky kind of hot that clung to you and made you feel like tearing your skin off. That makes the sweat pool at the nape of your neck until it slides in a cold streak down the curve of your spine. The New York air was shimmering, alive with exhaust fumes and the output of overworked air conditioning units of every apartment on your block—except for yours. The dumbass thing had broken overnight and when you woke up at five a.m., damp and uncomfortable, you’d called your best friend knowing he’d make a quick fix of it.

But you’d gotten his voicemail, unsurprising given that he’d never been a morning person. Since you’d met him three years ago at freshman orientation, Peter Parker had perfectly offset you in every way. Where he could stay in bed until noon, you were decidedly not a night owl, often cosy in your pyjamas by ten p.m. Peter had a sharp wit and loved to tease, and though his wit brought out a sharp tongue you’d never known you had, you were infinitely shyer than he was. He was perpetually late to everything from the Christmas dinner you’d invited him to at your parents’ home to your final exam for Organic Chemistry—which he’d passed with flying colours—whereas you were punctual to a fault. And perhaps most significantly, you’d never known heartbreak in your life, never had the opportunity because you’d never given anyone your heart to begin with. Peter’s heart, you knew, had endured the worst kind of break. Though he only spoke of her sometimes, you knew his high school girlfriend had died tragically and each year you went with him to visit her resting place, holding his hand and running your thumb over his knuckles as gently as you could. The depths of that pain, written on his face and in his body language whenever he spoke of Gwen, made you steel yourself against love, afraid to give yourself to anyone in case you left them broken and alone.

There was a flaw in your plan to avoid love forever though, and that was Peter himself. As much as you’d tried to swallow them, shut them up in the deepest pits of your soul, bury them where they’d never see the light of day, your feelings for him had only grown in the last three years. At first it was a little thrill each time his eyes met yours, a tingle on your skin when his fingers grazed your own while you shared a carton of fries at a Yankees game. That had grown, exploded really, into a brilliant whirl of colours every time you heard his voice—a sort of love-induced synesthesia that turned Peter’s laughter yellow and his whispers soft purple and his calling your name the deepest, richest scarlet.

You’d fallen desperately in love with your best friend and you were resolutely not going to do anything about it, thank you very much.

“Y/N!” There was a knock at the door of your cramped apartment that drew you out of your crossword puzzle—stuck, as you were, on 18-Down. “It’s Peter!”

You’d barely heard the knock over the sound of Eminem in your headphones, but there was no mistaking Peter’s voice. You were at the door, earbuds abandoned on the coffee table, pulling it open before you remembered that you’d traded in your baggy David Bowie tee and jean shorts for a barely-there camisole and blue panties of the lightest cotton. You might have been ever so slightly perturbed about Peter seeing you in your underwear if he wasn’t sporting a large cut along his jawline; one that looked achingly fresh.

“Did you shave with a machete this morning?” You asked, stepping out of the doorway and making room for him to enter.

“A scythe, actually,” Peter deadpanned. If only you’d known he was being entirely serious—his neck having had a near miss with some villain’s techno-reproduction of a classic medieval weapon only hours ago. “It’s hot as hell in here, Y/N. Are you trying to get me naked?”

Your cheeks flushed and you made quick work of rolling your eyes as dramatically as possible, trying to distract Peter from the change of colour in your face. He was an expert at changing the subject, so much so that you’d long since given up trying to get him to talk about anything he didn’t want to, such as why he was chronically late or where he’d disappeared to that night you had tickets for the Rangers playoff game, or how he managed to find time to workout with his ridiculous school schedule and familial duties because god damn, his arms—you stopped yourself from letting that thought full form, knowing it would send you down a rabbit hole.

“Don’t think I’m not keeping a tally of every time you dodge my questions,” you muttered, moving to the refrigerator and opening it briefly to let some cool air out on your heated chest. The emptiness of the shelves reminded you that you really needed to get groceries because ramen noodles, eggs, and the rapidly decaying bananas on the counter would not keep you alive forever. “And didn’t you get my voicemail?”

“No,” Peter shrugged, “I saw you left me one but thought I’d just swing by.” A small smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, though you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what the joke was.

“Well, the AC is broken,” you informed him, straightened up and facing him where he stood in your living room, his tall and lean frame a familiar sight there alongside the stacks of textbooks and novels, the record player, and the pile of throw pillows you couldn’t stop collecting. For a long moment, Peter stared at you, his head tilted slightly to the side as if he was just now seeing you since coming in. You felt much more naked than you actually were under his stare and shifted your weight from one leg to the other, your hand coming to tug down at the hem of your camisole. Peter had seen you nearly nude before, but this felt—different. Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was the unfamiliar expression that flashed across his eyes. Either way, it had you squeezing your legs together as subtly as possible. If Peter noticed, he didn’t let on.

“That explains the outfit,” he grinned, tone light, though you noticed the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed hard.

“It was hardly my first choice,” you shot back, “But anyways, now that you’re here do you think you could fix it?”

“This feels like the start of a por—”

“Don’t say it, Parker,” you cut him off with a warning glare, eyes wide. Peter only laughed, though stopped almost immediately, favouring his jaw. Already it looked like the gash was healing and you wondered where he’d gotten it from—it reminded you, oddly, of the ankle he’d “sprained” while showing you a skateboarding trick last summer. You would swear up and down, on every holy text that existed, that you’d seen his bone popping out of his skin. But the next day he’d been absolutely fine and you were certain that the limp he’d had for a week was half-faked.

“Y/N? Are you alive in there?” Peter’s amused voice drew you from your reverie and you nodded, running your fingers through your hair to get it out of your face.

“Alive and well,” you reported, “So you think you can fix it?”

***

As it turned out, Peter could fix the AC unit, but he’d need to pick up a part at the hardware store down the street. While he examined the ancient device mounted on your bedroom wall, you sat perched on your bed, silky pink blankets long since tossed to the floor, watching him with interest, noticing everything about the way his hands moved carefully over the shabby metal, the way his brow furrowed when he peeked inside the unit, and the way his eyes crinkled when he announced that it wouldn’t be an issue to repair.

For his part, Peter knew your eyes were on him—he wouldn’t go so far as to call it Spidey-sense, he just knew you and he’d had an inkling of the feelings you harboured for him for quite some time, though that part probably was Spidey-sense. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel the same way, because god knows he did, but he was terrified to let himself fall in love again; beyond hesitant to ever let anyone get hurt again because of him. But then there was the way you looked at him, your eyes sparkling with delight when he made a stupid joke. And the way you said his name, like it was a magic spell wrapping itself up inside him and making him forget everything other than your voice. Yes, he loved you—more deeply than he’d thought he’d ever love again—but he was afraid to be in love with you.

When he delivered the happy news that he’d be able to get cool air back into your apartment, he felt his heart swell at the look of relief on your face.

“You’re my hero, Pete,” you said earnestly, “Really and truly.”

You had no idea.

“Yeah,” he said lightly, “I’m the best.” He saw the pillow coming at him even before it fully left your hands and dodged it in a swift, graceful motion.

“That’s not very nice,” Peter grinned wolfishly at you and your heart fluttered, “Here I am helping you out like a dear old gentleman and you throw things at me.” With another two quick, almost instantaneous steps, he was at your bedside, his hands coming down to your ribcage, fingers curling in as he began to tickle you mercilessly. You couldn’t do much more than squeal, kicking gently to get him off of you, whining his name as you begged him to stop.

“Peter!” you cried out, “It’s too hot for this!” There were tears in your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks and your bottom lip was swollen from where you were biting it to try to keep control of your laughter. Looking down at you, Peter knew he was finished, absolutely doomed, to fall into the warm and beautiful void that was loving you.

His fingers paused their attack and you both seemed to take stock of the position you found yourself in; you, flat on your back in bed, hair a dishevelled mess haloed out over your head; him, legs spread so that they were straddling your hips, his arms on either side of your body, lean muscles holding him up.

“Pete—” you whispered, eyes fluttering down to where your bodies met, lashes wet with unshed tears.

He blinked once, twice, three times, a pregnant pause in the hot air before his brain supplied the two words he’d been wanting to hear, giving him permission to plunge forward. Fuck it.

“Y/N,” he licked his lips, “You—” his fingers moved from your ribs to the edge of your camisole, thumbing across its stitching, “You’re so beautiful.”

Your breath hitched in your throat and your eyes shot up to his, pupils dilated. Your lips twitched, uncertain. “Don’t do this,” you sighed, all the while your own hands moved as if of their own accord, coming to rub up and down his arms, caressing lightly over the rippling muscle.

“Do what?” he asked, hand pausing in its movement to slip under your shirt. He withdrew it immediately, hoping he’d not grossly misread the situation.

“Don’t start something with me that you won’t finish,” your voice was barely there, “I—” You couldn’t bring yourself to say it, couldn’t utter those little words out loud, but you knew Peter understood. You could tell from the way he settled down closer to you, his lips running feather-light kisses along your collarbone, the way he brushed the lightly calloused pad of his thumb over your eyes.

“Y/N, I feel like I was finished the moment I met you,” he said, “And now I’d really like to give you a proper kiss, if you don’t mind.”

“Hopefully you’re as good at kissing as you are at running that mouth, Par—”

The words couldn’t finish leaving your lips because Peter’s shut them right back into your mouth. He kissed you gently at first, then ran his tongue along your lips, asking entrance which you granted easily enough. Your kiss went on for what felt like years, each of you learning the other with care and attention. His hands explored your body freely, eliciting small moans of approval that led him along a path he was memorizing and then his lips were navigating that same path, kissing and nipping at your shoulders, your clavicle, your navel, between your breasts at the edge of your shirt.

You were on fire as your hands tangled into his soft brown hair, nails gently massaging into his scalp. You knew, from the vibrations on his lips, that he liked the sensation and filed that information away for a later date.

Once he’d kissed all the way down to your ankles, Peter flopped onto the mattress beside you, watching as your chest heaved with pleasure.

“It feels even hotter in here than before,” he smirked, “I should go grab that part, yeah?”

You swatted at him, laughter on your lips. “You’re the worst, Peter Parker.”

He caught your hand in mid-air, wrapping his fingers around yours and gently squeezing your palm—once, twice, three times. Three squeezes for three little words that neither of you were ready to say yet, but that you would willingly show each other.

“I’m serious,” Peter said, “I’ll grab the part and a pizza and we can hang out, even though I’m the worst.”

You rolled your eyes again, still trying to steady your heart rate. “Like I said, my hero. How can I ever repay you?” For good measure, you placed the back of your hand against your forehead, faking a swoon.

Peter only looked at you with fire in his eyes. “I can think of a few ways.”

He was out of the room before you could throw another pillow at him. Shame.

thunder-bombs; h.p

pairing: harry james potter x fem!gryffindor!reader

synopsis: you love thunderstorms, until one night they bring bad memories back. who better than harry to make you feel better?

warnings: panick attack, thunderstorm (astraphobia), bombimg references, a little overdramatic maybe?, way too much fluff

word count: 3.4K words

a/n: so, this is my first fic! I'm nervous but excited? this is one of my confort scenarios so please beware; i wrote this at 1 am when i was sad. also, english is not my first language :) hope you enjoy!

.

You have always enjoyed storms.

The rain falling everywhere, hitting everything that couldn't find a shelter; the harsh wind fighting every direction it could assume; the smell that would linger once the storm had ended; the distant booming sound of thunder and flashes of lightning, giving a hint of the war happening within the clouds. 

Actually, scratch that. You have always loved storms. 

And tonight it was no different. 

You fell asleep quite peacefully. Your roommates, in particular your best friend, Hermoine Granger, thought you were crazy. As she said, it was clear that this wasn't some random and innocent storm. It seemed much bigger, much stronger. And she found it crazy that you seemed actually happy about it. Her best friend really was strange sometimes. 

It was long after you were asleep that the gryffindor tower (and the rest of the castle, for that matter) finally calmed and rested. 

Until 3:27 am, that is. 

It was like the sky had been ripped open, leaving an aching scar behind. Like a bomb has just gone off in the middle of the common room area. 

Students woke up screaming and crying, and not just in the red house. It could be heard all over the castle. It was chaos. 

You woke up like you were having a nightmare, and in a way, you were. You jolted up in your bed, eyes widened and breath quickened. 

And suddenly, you were a naive 6-year-old child playing with the TV remote again. It was bad luck, honestly. Clicking on just that button. The button of some news channel replaying a video of an explosion in a city far away, caused by some terrific bomb. 

The fire, the bodies lying around, the screams, and the sound. It was just like that thunder. And you were reliving those images again in your mind. 

It may seem dramatic or ridiculous to some, hence why you didn't tell anyone, not even your family. But it was traumatising to you, especially at such a young age. It gave you a reality check, a different perspective of life, even though you only realised that a few years after. 

For the few weeks after the accident, you would look through the news, hidden from your mom and dad, to see if your city would explode. You couldn't sleep, afraid that you would hear that sound again, but this time, near her house, and not just on the television. It marked your childhood. 

And that thunder, that explosion in the sky, has just been like the bomb, bringing your childhood nightmare back. 

"Y/N? Y/N, come on, it's okay. Everything's fine," Hermoine's voice made its way through your mind, and you finally snapped out of your trance. 

Looking at her, you saw Hermoine at the end of your bed, her hand was on one of your knees, and her eyes were filled with worry. 

"Oh my goodness- Y/N, sweetheart, you're shaking! Come here!" Lavender Brown approached, looking a little pale herself, and pulled you into a side hug. You couldn't quite think. your surroundings were slightly blurry, and there was this ringing in your ears that just wouldn't go away. You didn't like this. You wanted to run away from this night, you wanted to go back to sleep, you wanted to go back to your harmless dreams. Dreams with no booming sounds. You wanted to hide under your many blankets and cushions and stay there, where you would be safe. 

"Hey, guys-" Parvati Patil announced re-entering the dorm — you didn't even notice when she had left — a little out of breath. "- let's go to the common room. They are all there- seems like no one wants to go to sleep now," Just now did you notice the distant noise of a mixture of chatter, cries, some yells and distinct laughs. You immediately thought of Fred and George, and them having the time of their lives; being awake at this hour of the night, making fun of their scared friends, and probably trying to terrorise some 1st years. The idea made you smile internally. 

"Okay, okay, we're coming! Maybe It would be good, Y/N, relax a little. This actually might be fun," Lavender added, getting up after giving you another pat on the shoulder and taking Parvati's hand in hers, both heading down. 

Hermoine tore her eyes from where the other two girls just were and looked at her best friend again with her eyebrows furrowed. 

"Your lips are still shaking. And hands. What's happening? I thought you loved storms and anything of that sort," Hermoine questioned. 

You tried to talk; tried to convince her that everything was fine, that you were fine, and that it was nothing. But your eyes started to fill with anxious tears and your mind was too confused to form proper words. 

Hermoine stood from her spot and pulled you into a tight hug. "Wait just a minute, I'll be right back, okay?" she said in a hushed tone, rushing out of the room moments later. 

You looked out of the window, still in a daze, as if expecting to see fire and corpses out there. But the only things she could see were the rain and the big storm that was trying to hide in the dark of the night. 

You felt so stupid. This is ridiculous, you're a Gryffindor, for Godric's sake! Where was your bravery now? You hadn't even had a single nightmare about this for years.

But even with the rational side of your mind yelling at you, you couldn't stop your body from shaking, all because of your absurd fear. You frustratedly ran your hands over your face, trying (and failing) to take deep breaths and get your shit together. But really, there was no use. 

"Y/N?" a familiar voice called you.

Your favourite voice. 

You pulled your hands back from your head and glanced up at your very best friend. Harry James Potter. 

As much as you wanted to hide and cover up your current state (which definitely wasn't your best), you couldn't. One look into his beautiful green eyes was all it took for your tears to fall, letting your walls tremble along with you. 

"Oh- Y/N!" Harry stuttered, hurrying to come close to you, his furred eyebrows contorted an adorable expression in his handsome face. 

Sitting in the middle of your bed, Harry pulled you onto his lap, which you gladly let him. You buried your face in the crook of his neck and breathed in his calming scent. 

"You're okay, Y/N, everything's alright now. You're safe, I promise. It's okay. I'm here." 

Harry kept whispering sweet things in your ear, giving you time and waiting patiently for you to stop crying. He was stroking your hair with one hand, effectively pressing your face into his neck and holding you in place. The other hand secured your body, his arm wrapping around you from under your legs, making your knees scrunched up to your chest. your hands grabbed his navy hoodie within its fists. It made you feel safe, warm and fuzzy, like you always were with Harry; even despite your current situation. 

Harry was worried, scared and confused. He never saw you, his brave, impatient, confident and happy best friend like this, and it absolutely terrified him. He just wanted to take all your fears and sadness into a tiny box and destroy it. Or keeping all those bad feelings just to him, saving you from it. 

Harry didn't like to see you cry. He didn’t like to see you scared out of your mind. And he definitely didn't like to see the desperate state you were in; sobbing and clinging onto him as if, otherwise, he would disappear forever. His heart was beating almost as quickly as yours. Harry closed his eyes tightly and tried to do his best in brushing your hair from your tear and sweat glistening face. Harry was a little shaken up from the thunder as well; he was sleeping so peacefully that it was quite the shock when he abruptly woke up. But he couldn't just figure out why it would do this to you. Sure, on his way to your's and Hermoine's dorm he saw several students crying, but a breakdown like this? 

A light kiss on his neck put Harry out of his mind. Several minutes had passed. He looked down at the girl in his arms the best he could. 

"Thank you, " you sighed in relief as a small smile was making its way onto your lips. 

He smiled, relieved too. You were finally starting to stop physically shaking. "No need for that. That's what I'm here for." 

You stayed in silence for a while. "Do you want to talk about it, Y/N? I know something's going on," Harry mumbled and re-started to stroke her hair. You focused on your breathing and closed your eyes even more tightly. Of course you wanted to tell someone, even more so if that someone happened to be Harry. After all, you had carried this burden with you, alone, for many years now. You just didn't want to show this cowardly side of yourself to Harry. It was such a stupid fear. 

"It's stupid. I-I don't even know why I am such, such a mess," you eventually mumbled, and you felt Harry holding you closer to his body. 

"If it's something that bothers you and you are scared of, it's not stupid, Y/N. Whatever it is, I am here for you, " Harry responded, pressing a kiss in the top of your head. 

A few moments passed. You took a deep breath and started to tell the memory that has haunted you for so long. "When I was little, like 6 years o-old, I was playing with, with the TV remote in my house," you paused as you tried to control her breath. 

Harry remained silent. He continued to stroke your skin and hair, just anything that his hands could reach really, not wanting to rush you. 

"The, the channel. It was a news channel. It was replaying a video of an explosion somewhere, I-I don't remember where," you continued after a few minutes, relishing the lovingly embrace Harry was giving you. 

"It showed everything, it was a video t-taken at the time. The fire, the buildings being ruined, the corpses of the people around, a-and the place where the bomb had gone off. And the sound. It was so loud and big and just terrifying. The sound, Harry. It- it traumatised me." 

Harry glanced down at you again, tearing his eyes from the random spot they were before and looked into your watering ones. 

"And that thunder was so similar to, to the noise the bomb made," you softly finished. 

It almost was as if you and Harry were in a staring contest. You were looking into his eyes to see if he thought you were being childish, ridiculous. If all of this was just some big nonsense. Harry, however, couldn’t help but comprehend. He had his fair share of childhood trauma in his life, and he absolutely understand your's. For a small child, it must really be something that would scare you, and some fears just can't be overcome. Despite it all, Harry knew that he would stay with you no matter what, and help you when that fear came to haunt her again. 

"You- you don't think it’s ridiculous or embarrassing, right?" you eventually broke the silence, growing anxious at every passing second. 

Harry snapped out of his head. "What? Of course not! How could you even think that?! Y/N, no one is perfect, you're allowed to have fears! And if you ask me, your's pretty plausible. Fuck, I would be terrified of any type of thunder or loud sounds, honestly." Harry said indignantly, hugging the girl tighter. 

You smiled up at him, now completely relaxed. Harry truly was special. 

A few minutes passed before Harry decided to open his mouth again. 

"Besides, even I almost passed out from my sleep with that thunder-bomb." 

You bursted out laughing. This boy was just too stupid sometimes. "Thunder-bombs? What the fuck is wrong with you?" 

"It's the most adequate name. Very unique if you asked me," Harry grinned, glad to see you starting to become your normal self again. 

You pressed your head in the crook of Harry's neck again, and he felt you  smile against it, along with another kiss. 

"You wanna go downstairs? Everybody’s there," Harry asked. You hummed but didn't move a single muscle. 

"Hermoine is quite worried, you know? She came downstairs yelling and slapping me. And then her worry worried Ron, and he couldn't keep his mouth shut, so now the twins are waiting for you, too. And don't even get me started on Dean, Merlin, that boy is too dramatic. Oh, and Neville cried. Ginny must be asleep again by now but I'm sure if was awake she would want to see you. Lavender-" 

"Harry, you're rambling again, shut up," Your voice came muffled. You moved your position so your chest were touching his. Then, you circled your legs around his waist, your face never leaving its place. Harry's strong arms adjusted to the new position by wrapping themselves around your waist. 

"You look like a koala, Y/N," Harry laughed, freeing one of his hands from your body to continue to play with your hair. He leaned his head on yours. 

"So, you wanna go? McGonagall must have let us stay there, for them to not come upstairs by now." 

"Hm, okay, let's go," you mumbled. You wrapped your arms and legs around him tighter, not wanting to let go. 

There was a pause then. 

"You want me to carry you?" Harry asked, but it sounded more like an affirmation. He knew how much you craved affection and cuddles when you are sad and tired. 

You nodded against him, placing another small kiss in his exposed skin as a 'please'. 

"Okay, let's go," he said, bringing the both of you off of your bed. 

And Harry just doesn’t know what to do when in silence.

Once he stood up, Harry stopped for a minute to adjust your position on him, making sure you were comfortable. Your legs were still tied to his waist, arms enveloped around his torso just below his shoulders line. Harry's hands secured you by your thighs, caressing them gently every now and then. And not once did you move her face, kissing his soft neck sometimes. 

Nobody commented on your and Harry’s 'situation', despite the many not-so-subtle glances. Everyone knew how close the two of you were, if your constantly shared affections were anything to go by. But, of course they were just best friends . The teachers even gave up on the whole 'girls and boys safety space' rule when it came to Y/N and Harry, finding it impossible to keep them apart. It was actually very endearing to the majority of them. 

Harry looked around, trying hard to ignore the many pairs of eyes looking straight at him (and the girl in his arms). 

"Where do you want to go? The group is on the big sofa by the window on the corner. But if you want we could go to the sofas near the fireplaces," Harry murmured into your ear. 

"Let's go meet the group. I can feel Fred's and Dean's nerves all the way from here. What the hell did Hermoine and the girls tell? That the thunder hit me or something ?" 

Harry laughed, and the sound made you smile. 

The classes for the next day have been cancelled. Practically everyone and everything around Hogwarts was wide awake by now, and it would take a long time to get settled down again. Besides, it was Friday. A longer weekend wouldn't hurt. 

Your eyes peeked from Harry's neck and shoulder just enough to see your surroundings. McGonagall was walking from one side to another, talking to several students and making sure everyone was fine. Some first-years trailed behind her everywhere she went. 

You were in a position similar to the one you were in your dorm, your bodies tangled with one another under the blankets that someone threw at you, probably Ron. 

The noise in the common room wasn't very loud, even though all Gryffindors were there. Many were cuddling and chatting quietly with their friends in any free place they could find, and some were sleeping. The atmosphere was surprisingly soft. The late (or early) hour and the sound of the rain outside provided sort of a sleepy happiness within the common room's walls. 

"Harry? What time is it?" you whispered. 

"A little past 4 am," Harry answered, looking down at you, his eyes and glasses shining. You continued to make your way towards your friends. 

It was funny, really. How something that was supposed to just bring bad feelings, such as sadness, fear and panic, could create these moments. Moments of pure adoration, bringing comfort beyond imagination. 

"Thank you for staying with me," your soft voice said,  your eyes full of love for the boy who was still holding you. 

Harry just smiled and leaned his forehead on yours. 

Once the two of you reached the corner, you were met with several reactions; worried glances quickly turned into knowing looks and smirks.

Thanks to Dean's and Fred's exaggerated cries for you, yelling happily that 'the thing is alive', and your grumbles for them to 'shut the hell up before I throw you two out of the window', the tension that was previously there disappeared. They were just glad that you were okay now and returning to your normal self. 

You and Harry had seated in the farthest place, right in the corner, with an incredible view from the window. 

You looked around again. And the sight before you made you temporarily breathless. 

It was still heavily raining outside, the wind strong, but the booming sound from thunder and the bolts of lightning were nowhere to be seen nor heard. The now relaxing sound outside brought you to your usual peace whenever the weather was like this. 

The light inside the common room was dim, just a few candles that McGonagall conjured were flying around and the fire from the fireplaces illuminated the place, and it was absolutely perfect. It helped to create the soft atmosphere that you felt the moment you and Harry came downstairs. Nothing was too bright, just enough to see. 

Your friends were all comfy under a million blankets, some cuddling as well. Hermoine was next to you and Harry, leaning back on some pillows, and from the moment that you got there, she took your hand in hers, not letting it go. Ron, however, was leaning on Hermoine, and the two wouldn’t stop their light bickering about the best type of weather. Ginny was dead asleep hugging a pillow beside Ron, her legs thrown over to Neville's lap. Across from them were George, Fred and Dean quietly joking around, making whoever was listening laugh. Seamus was sleeping as well, head on Dean's shoulder. Lavender and Parvati were a little far away from them, trying to find some peace and quiet. 

And then there was Harry. You looked up at him and took in the most beautiful person ever; his black hair was too messy, and his green eyes were sparkling even with the almost non-existent light. His cheeks and nose were flushed with light pink, glasses slightly crooked, and in his mouth was resting a little smile, observing the scene before the two of them too. 

Your eyes met and you decided that that was, indeed, the prettiest thing you had ever seen and experienced.

You couldn't help but press another kiss on Harry's neck (it was your thing after all), causing Harry to lean down and brush your noses together, making you two giggle. 

And in Harry's arms, with Hermoine's hand in yours, and surrounded by your amazing friends, you felt complete, like you could get through anything. 

Even thunder-bombs. 

oh my god 😭 <33

Unbuttoned (Sirius Black x Reader)

W/C: 1.8k

A/N: I just wanted to write the softest Sirius x Reader fic I could manage. It's just fluff, with a bunch of cursing. fem!reader & brief mentions of alcohol.

You realize you’re in love with Sirius Black in the midst of a storm so tempestuous it feels apocalyptic. And you suppose that’s fitting, given you’ve just acknowledged that the feelings you've been harbouring for one of your dearest friends are deeper and more achingly desirous than they have any right to be. This realization—the bottom of the chasm through which you’ve been falling for years—certainly feels like the end of something, but you’re hoping that this particular ending leads to the beginning of something infinite.

How did you get here? Not here, outside in the pouring rain on the abandoned Quidditch pitch in the middle of April. But here, in the rich complexity that is love; the tangle of feelings and thoughts and wants and needs and hopes and fears that makes you weak in the knees and yet completely invincible. Yes, you had fallen completely and terribly, tumbled heart first, into the abyss that was love. And there, at the depths of your soul was him. Sirius Black.

Sirius fucking Black. The boy who had copied your Transfiguration notes since first year. The boy who shimmied in beside you during breakfast and stole the toast off your plate because you, apparently, knew just the right ratio of butter to marmalade to bread. The boy who teased you about the your height (or lack thereof) and made it a point to dramatically get Potions ingredients from the top shelf of the storage room for you.

The boy who wasn’t a boy anymore, but a man. A man whose soul had ached and broken and healed with the love of his friends, whose shoulders had broadened and voice had deepened, and who had grown taller and more mischievous and increasingly loyal.

But why today? Why now? Was it those damn muggle movies you grew up watching that told you the rain was romantic and the bad boy — for Sirius was Hogwarts’ resident bad boy, though he cared little for the title — was supposed to fall for the quiet, bookish girl who’d been there by his side all along? It was so cliché that you’d turn the movie of your life off at this point. But today was the day that the realization slipped its warm fingers inside your chest and gave your heart one extra squeeze — as if to say hey, don’t forget to take care of me.

You’re not sure if it’s the fact that Sirius convinced you to come out here—not that he’d had to try very hard, making those perfectly persuasive eyes at you and insisting he needed to clear his head after studying for a grand total of twenty minutes. Or perhaps it was the way he quite literally swept you off your feet to fly you around the empty Quidditch pitch, your arms secured firmly around his waist and your chest pressed up against his back, holding on tightly because you’d never been a big fan of flying, much preferring to have your feet planted on solid ground, thank you very much. Maybe it’s both those things and so much more, because haven’t you been noticing the way your fingertips want to linger on Sirius’s skin and the way your stomach tightens when he catches your eye and shoots you a smile that somehow stops your heart and restarts it all at once.

Maybe it’s the kiss you shared at Christmas, both a little tipsy in front of the Potter’s fireplace, high on the sound of one another’s laughter and one too many pieces of Euphemia’s incomparable Christmas cake. That kiss that you haven’t talked about, but that still makes you blush every time you remember the way Sirius’s tongue had gently intertwined with your own and the way his hands had held you, one caressing the back of your neck while the other drew smooth circles on your stocking-clad thigh. Maybe it’s the idea that that kiss might have escalated, might have drawn you both out of yourselves and into each other had James not come bounding down the hall, shouting for the two of you to come see what Remus was doing.

(He’d been juggling, completely pissed on Firewhiskey and a fancy rum that Fleamont had purchased from a muggle liquor store. And while you had to admit Remus juggling was a sight worth seeing, you couldn’t help but to wonder what could have — would have — been).

Maybe it’s the way Sirius calls you puppy, the nickname holding connotations of care and ownership so that it thrills you each time the word leaves his sweet, sweet lips. Or, it could be the fact that he refers to you as his best girl, his pretty girl, his dove. Always his. Merlin, how you wished.

It’s certainly not helped by the knowing looks you’ve noticed Remus casting your way when he catches your eyes on Sirius instead of on the parchment of the homework you’re working on. The smug grin on his face when you quickly whip your eyes back to where they’re supposed to be. The absolutely frustrating way that Remus makes sure to leave space between the two of you in every class so Sirius has no choice but to sit sandwiched there. He’s such an outrageously good friend it makes you want to smother him — with hugs and sometimes a pillow.

Maybe it’s all of that and more — the way Sirius has barged into your dorm three Sunday mornings in a row now, just because he misses his girl (there it is again!), causing your roommates to groan; the way he whispered his gratitude when you bandaged his knuckles after he punched some Slytherin who spoke ill of Remus last week; the way he hugs you after each full moon to assure you that your friends are all in one piece and then lets you take care of him, allowing himself to be soft and vulnerable with you in a way that no one else is allowed to see.

Yes, it’s all of that. His charm, his recklessness, his joy, his pain, his loyalty, his smell, his voice, his hands, his heart and his soul and, of course, his hair. Saints, his hair is fucking perfect.

It’s funny the way the thoughts come to you like a deluge from your spot on his broomstick, streaking across the grey sky between bolts of lightning, your heart palpitating partly from the thrill of the ride, but mostly from the absolute impulsiveness of the decision you’re about to make.

“Sirius!” You call out over the swirl of wind that blows its course past you, somehow never interrupting the control he has of your flight, “We should land. It’s so bad out here!”

As if to emphasize your point, thunder claps loudly to punctuate your words and you feel your fingers dig deeper into Sirius’s sides, literally holding on to all that is dear. The only indication that Sirius heard you is the feeling in your stomach of falling—this time, literally. Your guts feel as though they’re still in the air as Sirius expertly hurtles you toward the Earth, stopping just short of the ground, his feet landing perfectly on the mud-streaked pitch.

You don’t realize you’ve been screaming until Sirius is laughing at you and turning to face you so he can grab your shoulders and steady you.

“I got you, Y/N,” he laughs heartily, “I’d never let anything happen to my best girl.”

Your hands are shaking as Sirius helps you off the broomstick, your boots sinking slightly in the muck.

“You’re mad,” you whisper at him, close enough to his body that you’re certain he can hear you despite the rain. In the back of your mind, you wonder how ratty you look right now with your hair sopping down your shoulders, your robes sticking to you, and your mascara probably running down your cheeks in unflattering streaks. Somehow, you can’t bring yourself to care because Sirius has seen you at your best and he’s seen you at your worst and right now, you’re just you.

“Yes, probably,” he agrees with you, a smirk on his lips, “But you love it.”

Shit. You did. You love him. And though you’d never been as much of a daredevil as this boy—man—standing before you, there’s something on the tip of your tongue, battling to be let loose from your lips, threatening to burn you if you swallow it whole.

“I love you.” Your reply is in earnest and the way you say it makes Sirius pause, his own hair a dishevelled wet mess (yet still, somehow, perfect—fucker), his lashes fluttering at you as he tilts his head to the side. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out—that’s a first, and it makes you slightly concerned. Then his lips are pursed and his brow is furrowed and he backs up a step and you think your heart might stop beating and you want to sink into the mud completely, let it consume you and never give you back to the daylight.

“Don’t joke,” Sirius says, voice short and uncertain. You laugh—loudly. It’s the only reaction you can think to have and that laugh completely dies on your lips, replaced by something softer, yet more desperate. Him.

Sirius is kissing you—hard. He’s kissing you like his very salvation depends upon finding something in your kiss. What does he want to find? Requited feelings, warm comfort, infinity? You kiss him back, running your tongue along his lips, giving him all those things and more. Giving him yourself—his best girl, his pretty thing, his, his his, as you’ve always been.

His hands come up to tangle in your hair, one sliding down your cheek and you wonder if the wetness there is all from the rain or if you’re crying because it feels like a millstone has been lifted from your shoulders and you’re fairly certain if Sirius didn’t have a solid hold on you, you’d float away.

And then he’s pulling you even closer, bringing your body into the folds of his own and even though it’s raining and cold, you feel heated, like the sun is shining only for you.

Just as it feels as though your lungs will collapse with lack of air, Sirius’s lips let yours go and you inhale deeply, chest heaving. His is doing the same as he stares into your eyes, that vulnerability only you’re allowed to see fully on display.

“I wasn’t joking,” you say quietly, another crack of lightning illuminating the sky behind you. It’s nothing, you think, compared to the electricity you feel in Sirius’s gaze.

It’s his turn to laugh and then he kisses you again, softly and quickly this time. His lips are just hovering over yours, his hands on your waist. “I love you, Y/N.”

Jamie crawling into the huge hoodie you're wearing when its cold and just laying down on you with his head in your chest under the fabric

Rain beats against the windows of Gryffindor tower causing you to worry about James, who would let no weather stop him from playing quidditch. You however are curled up in front of the fire in the common room, toasty and warm in your favorite sweatshirt.

The portal to the common room swings open and the quidditch team steps through, all of them equally soaked to the bone, though James seems to be the only person with a smile on his face. His eyes scan the common room before landing on you.

"Y/N!!" he nearly squeals as he bounds towards you. He jumps onto the couch and shoves his head under the bottom of your sweater and wriggles up so his head and broad shoulders are under your sweater, his damp hair peeking out from the collar.

You squirm away from him, screeching and giggling, shocked by not only his wet hair but his freezing skin. "Fuck! James! That's so fucking cold!" you shriek.

A chill runs through your body as James rubs his wet hair against your chest as he gets comfortable, "Don't worry I showered" James assures.