E Should Start Writing Funky Initial Letters Like In Medieval Manuscripts Again

𝔚e should start writing funky initial letters like in medieval manuscripts again

Imagine

muggle born and halfblood students sending howlers to pureblood friends or even bullies wich play "never gonna give you up" by Rick Astley so when they receive a howler they expect to get scolded by their parents but get Rick Rolled instead

another summer morning — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

prompt: a warm bed for  @kalimagik​ and @the-hufflefluffwriter​‘s “a very harry potter summer” !

a/n: school starts next week which is why i haven’t been posting as much but ahhh i hope you guys like this !! :D

Draco loves his wife.

He loves [Y/N], so he tolerates everything she does; her tendency to accidentally smack him in the face in her sleep, her sudden (deafening) singing outbursts at random intervals during the day that tend to have him jumping right out of his skin, how she constantly keeps bringing up the idea of adopting a ferret in tribute to Draco’s fourth year at Hogwarts, and, Well. This.

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Blurb Idea: Draco finds the first snitch he caugjt and gave you in second year and his just heart melts

a/n: ok this isn’t fic length or anything but it’s definitely not blurb length. i think it’s nice tho so here you go love

memory

•──♥︎

draco didn’t even remember what he’d been searching for in your drawer. his gaze had been set on a pile of old things that he knew had meaning to you. there were a few things from your childhood you’d told him about, a number of gifts or souvenirs from dating him, and other trinkets and knick-knacks.

what he hadn’t expected you to keep all these years later was his first attempt to woo you, his very first full-blown crush. you’d kept the first golden snitch that draco caught in a quidditch match and even kept it polished so that it was just as shiny as it was the day he gave it to you.

second year, his hair had been pooled in post-game sweat and he was parading around with a smug but toothy grin. draco had spotted you next to your friends and heart racing, ran over to you. he’d been hoping with enough will to near a prayer underneath that cocky demeanor that you’d seen the match. seen him.

a soft smile grazed his lips and he ran his thumb over the snitch, as if rubbing away dirt though there was none. something about you could always fill draco with that same rush of enamour when he was stealing glances at you during class. even now, having called you his for years now, draco had a frenzy of butterflies thinking of your lovely y/n smile.

you’d sent a huge blow to draco’s ego, being the last of your friends to look up and congratulate him. the sound of your voice made his nerves jump and he thanked you, lining his words with an unmistakably malfoy tone. of course he’d won, he’s draco malfoy. the amusement in your smirk and locked eyes had him whipped ─ draco was done for the second he’d met you and you reminded him of that everyday without fail.

the day remained crystal clear in draco’s mind. how could he forget it? his boyish love for you had never truly gone away, even when you’d started dating. not with the first kiss, not with the first i love you. no matter what, you could just breathe and draco was wrapped around your finger, in utter love with you.

“so are you just going to stand there or was there a reason slytherin’s best player strutted over here?” you cocked an eyebrow and draco as an innocent child, assumed this must be love. so young, but his feelings for you were always certain. smirking and steadying his trembling hand, draco pulled out the snitch and held it in his hand. draco wanted you to have it, to the immediate jealousy of every other surrounding girl.

draco wondered if you still held it in your hand. do you still look at it fondly and feel that day all over again? it couldn’t only be draco, not with how madly in love the two of you were. he could go hold your hand now, for you were just in the other room, but the memory wasn’t over and he knew what came next.

“i heard you’re supposed to give the first snitch you catch to the prettiest girl you know,” he announced, nowhere near as confident as he sounded. you’d adorably bitten your lip and heat had risen to the apples of your cheeks. you took it, fingertips brushing over his pale ones in the short process. “no wonder you’re giving it to me then," you smirked before softening. “thank you.”

that was you. it always had been and draco believed it always would be. banter and quick wits for days but the delicacy of an angel. draco remembered the innocent kiss of a child and all the less than innocent but effortlessly ethereal ones that came later on in your lives. fondly, draco smiled. if only he knew as a boy just how much of that perfection you had to offer and would one day, for some reason only the gods knew, bestow upon him.

just before hurrying off with those giggly friends of yours who were already whispering about you two, you planted a quick kiss to draco’s cheek and sent him straight to what he thought must be heaven. the pomegranate blush that rushed to paint his skin didn’t go unnoticed by you. “i’ll see you later, draco.” you’d waved and turned, leaving draco with ecstatic nausea at his name on your lips.

and just like he’d done at twelve years old, draco’s fingers raised and lightly touched the skin your soft lips had met, ghosting over the memory. putting the snitch down, he sighed contently and ever so happy with what had become of that school boy crush. now he’d go and kiss you a thousand times, with tenfolds of love ─ for the boy in the memory. for the boy who gave his very first golden snitch to the girl he liked.

•──♥︎

everything you didn’t say — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

summary: reader has secrets of her own. a party at the malfoy manor reveals them.

a/n: i had to rewrite this bc im dumb n my first draft didn’t save which was Very upsetting but anyways i hope you like it :“) 

“Well, don’t you look dashing.”

Draco’s eyes snap up in the mirror.

[Y/N] is standing in his doorway, having somehow opened the door without him noticing. She has one shoulder leaning on the doorframe, arms folded over her chest, eyebrows raised. There is a glint in her eye that Draco knows all too well; that of playfulness, of fondness. One he has long since associated with safety.

He breathes out a short laugh. “How long have you been standing there?” Draco asks, ringed fingers deftly resuming to work on his tie, but he isn’t having much success. He feels far too jittery, and as a result he keeps accidentally knotting it, only to unwind the silk and try again, over and over like some messed up routine.

Watching her through the mirror’s reflection, he sees [Y/N] step into the room. She’s wearing a plain black dress; lace sleeves, collarbones in display, the silver necklace he’d given her hanging around her neck.

“Long enough to find out that you’re a grown seventeen year old who doesn’t know how to tie his own tie.”

Draco still has it in him to roll his eyes, to let out a short-lived laugh. “I do,” he mutters, yanking a little at the fabric in frustration. “It’s just..”

[Y/N] swiftly pads across his room to join him at the dresser, a tiny grin playing across her lips. Standing in front of him, she gently knocks his hands away so as to work on his tie herself.

“Nerves?” she says quietly. The grin on her lips falls slightly as she fixes her gaze on his tie, hands quickly working to loop the loose ends together.

Draco inhales sharply. His palms are clammy, his heart is beating too fast inside of his chest—to say that he’s dealing with nerves would be an understatement.

”You could say that,” he decides, curling and uncurling his fists at his sides. When she looks up to meet his gaze, he tries for a weak smile, if only to quell the storm inside his heart.

”It’ll be fine,” [Y/N] tells him with a pursed smile. She’s done tying his tie. Her hands move to rest on his shoulders, which are covered with his suit jacket. His mother had insisted he wear it, just as her own mother had no doubt insisted [Y/N] wear her dress; it is somewhat of a special occasion, after all, although what they are celebrating is hardly something that neither draco nor [Y/N] feel too ecstatic about it.

”There’ll be drinks,” continues [Y/N] with a lilting tone, thumbs smoothing over the creases of his suit. “And..”

She trails off. There isn’t really much to say.

”Dancing?” Draco suggests half-heartedly.

There is one brief second in which their eyes meet, and both of their lips are already beginning to quirk up at the corners, and then the next they are both breaking out into laughter. And it’s not the kind that hurts your stomach or has you pounding your fists on the ground, but it’s laughter nonetheless—a little rigid, a little heavy-hearted, but it’s just as relieving.

[Y/N]’s shoulders wrack with subtle giggles. “Yeah,” she agrees, nodding. “And I suspect Greyback will be giving a motivational speech.”

Draco feels his lips tug up into a crooked grin. “Hear my aunt might skip out on the party. She’s got knitting to do, you see.”

Both of them let themselves paint a picture inside their head: the infamous, untamed Bellatrix, sitting in a quiet corner with a quilt in her lap, humming a little tune to herself.

[Y/N] throws her head back in a loud laugh, and this time it’s not quite as tense. Draco watches her, laughing quietly on his own, and suddenly his heart doesn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

He watches as the last of her giggles dissipate, and she is smiling down at her shoes again, and then back up at him.

“We’ll be okay,” she tells him softly, once more reaching out, but not to tie his tie or to smoothen out the creased fabric of his suit, but to card her fingers through his hair the way she knows relaxes him.

Staring down at her—holding her gaze, which is warm and comforting and reminiscent of simpler times, like when she would sneak into his bed at Hogwarts and they would whisper and laugh quietly into the night, taking care not to wake up any of his roommates—Draco allows himself to breathe. To feel like himself again; a boy in love and nothing more.

”Yeah,” he says, closing his eyes, leaning forward to lean his forehead on hers. “Yeah, we will.”

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woes of a prefect — cedric diggory

prompt: cedric diggory x female!reader

request: do u mind writing a cedric x reader where they’re both prefects and they bump into eachother when leading the first years - the kids are surprised to find out that dating someone from a seperate house is fine

please refrain from plagiarizing my work. requests are always open!

“Follow me, please—excuse me, that’s the wrong way!”

[Y/N] sighs to herself for what must have been the hundredth time since the opening feast ended. This year’s first-years are proving to be especially difficult—even more so than usual. The tiny eleven-year-old Gryffindors keep trying to go down different corridors despite [Y/N] leading them at the very front of the pack.

She grits her teeth before forcing a painful-looking smile. “Everybody,” she says in as patient a tone as she can muster, fighting the urge to throttle the mischievous first-year at the back who keeps trying to leave the group. “If you don’t follow me, you’ll end up getting lost inside the castle—and we have trolls and vampires and ogres who will not hesitate to eat any lost first year they stumble upon.”

The first-years gasp in fear simultaneously. One of them starts crying, but [Y/N] only briefly pats the bawling little girl on the shoulder before ushering them up the stairs. “That’s it, come on—excuse me!”

One of them—the same particularly devious boy from before—breaks away from the group and bounds down the stairs they had just ascended. A domino effect ensues; the other first-year Gryffindors catch sight of him, and apparently the sight of his defying the rules has given the others the courage to follow suit, because the rest of the first-years—save for the teary-eyed girl—bound down the stairs after him.

Frazzled, frustrated, and incredibly bewildered, [Y/N] stands at the top of the staircase for a moment, stunned as she stares down at the first-year Gryffindors now back in the Great Hall corridor. She wonders, briefly, if her prefect badge will be taken away if she uses the incarcerating charm on all of them so she can levitate them up to Gryffindor tower herself.

But then, as though the heavens have taken pity on her, help comes in the form of her boyfriend.

A group of baffled-looking first-year Hufflepuffs have arrived at the scene. At the very front of the pack stands Hufflepuff prefect Cedric Diggory, looking just as bewildered as the seemingly better disciplined young Hufflepuffs behind him. [Y/N] can’t blame them; the sight of eleven-year-olds prancing around the Great Hall corridor after the opening banquet when they’re supposed to be in their common room is certainly one to behold.

Slowly, Cedric pries his gaze away from the rather comical scene to look at [Y/N], who has now regained control of her senses and is rushing down the steps down into the Great Hall corridor in pursuit of the rampaging first-years.

Admittedly a little amused, Cedric approaches [Y/N], his own group of first-year Hufflepuffs trailing after him obediently. [Y/N]’s Gryffindors thankfully haven’t gone very far; at present, they’re currently clustered around a large painting of Godric Gryffindor, eyes wide with childish mirth as they poke at the canvas, much to the bafflement of Godric Gryffindor himself.

“Blimey!” exclaims one of them. “That’s one old-looking bloke!”

“That’s Gryffindor, stupid. He founded our house!”

Bewildered, Godric Gryffindor stares down at the group of eleven-year-olds clustered around his portrait. “How may I assist you, young—ow!” One of the first-years had taken out their wand and jabbed his belly.

[Y/N] rushes forward and places herself between the first-years and the portrait, effectively blocking the enraged Godric Gryffindor from view. “Alright, that’s enough!” she announces, giving each of them a stern look. “If any of you lot keep this behavior up, I will physically—”

“Oookay!” Cedric says loudly, cutting her off before she says anything she might regret. Mumbling “hold on a second, you guys” over his shoulder to his group of Hufflepuffs, he walks over to [Y/N] and the rowdy first-year Gryffindors.

“Woah!” one of the Gryffindors cries out. “You look like my uncle!”

They all start giggling. Cedric meets [Y/N]’s gaze and she grimaces, mouthing “get me out of here”.

Cedric’s lips tug up into an amused grin as he nods. Turning to address the Gryffindors, he says in a playful tone, “What do we have here?”

A flurry of excited chatter bursts from the group as they all try to reply to Cedric. The closest one to him exclaims, “We were looking at all the portraits! We don’t have ones as big as those at home!”

Cedric peers down at the enthusiastic little girl who had chimed in. “Really?” he says, smiling. “Well, me neither. Wicked, aren’t they?”

Another burst of eager assent from the tiny Gryffindors.

“But you’ll have plenty of time to look at them everyday,” Cedric says, nodding solemnly at them. “For now, you lot have to go into your common rooms—and rest assured there are more fascinating things to look at there. Alright?”

There is a momentary lull as they seem to consider this, but eventually, they all shrug and nod, turning back to face their own Gryffindor prefect. [Y/N] gapes at Cedric incredulously as though saying how? Cedric merely shrugs, although he looks smug.

“Okay,” she huffs, shoulders slumping in relief. “Let’s get going!”

Thankfully, this time, they all trail after her. She pauses when she passes by Cedric to swoop in and plant a brief kiss on his cheek. “Thanks, Ced,” she whispers to him, offering him a smile of gratitude.

“Don’t stress yourself too much, love.”

“WHAT!” the first-year Gryffindors exclaim in unison. One of them blubbers, “You two are.. together?”

Taken aback, [Y/N] and Cedric turn to face them. The looks on their childish faces give off the impression that someone has insulted their mothers. “Yes?” [Y/N] replies uncertainly, looking at Cedric out of the corner of her eye. He looks like he’s fighting back a laugh.

“Like boyfriend and girlfriend?”

She nods slowly, wondering where this is going and dreading it.

“But you can’t!” another tiny Gryffindor boy with auburn hair says. “You’re from different houses—you’re enemies!” [Y/N] stares at him, looking genuinely baffled. This is not how she imagined her first day back at Hogwarts.

Mouth opening and closing as she struggles to find words, Cedric once more comes to her rescue. “Just because we’re from different houses doesn’t mean we have to be enemies,” he says gently. [Y/N] is surprised at how much self-control he has; personally, she feels like tugging her hair out. “Aside from the competition for the house cup—”

“And the Quidditch cup!” pipes up the same auburn-haired boy.

“Yes, the Quidditch cup—aside from those, there’s really not much rivalry between the houses,” the Gryffindors stare up at Cedric in awe. “You’ll find that there’s a whole lot of inter-house friendships going on around here.”

“And relationships,” [Y/N] mutters, pressing a palm to her forehead.

“Wicked!”

“Do you guys kiss?”

“Yuck!”

Before the Gryffindors can get any more invested in the topic, [Y/N] claps her hands together and ushers them up the stone steps. “I’ll tell you all about inter-house relationships and friendships when we get to the common room, okay?”

Grinning excitedly to themselves, the Gryffindors finally, finally skip up the staircase with [Y/N] in the lead. Cedric goes back to his own group of calm Hufflepuffs, amused as he stares after his girlfriend.

“Alright, let’s go,” says Cedric, leading the first-year Hufflepuffs towards the kitchen corridor, where their common room is.

But when he glances over his shoulder already a few feet away, he sees that the first-year Hufflepuffs are still standing there, rooted to the spot.

Cedric’s brows arch.

One of the Hufflepuffs at the front row says in a timid voice, “Was that your girlfriend?”

Gaping at them momentarily, Cedric lets out an incredulous laugh as he nods and beckons for them to follow him.

But they stay unmoving. The same timid Hufflepuff boy opens his mouth, and with his forehead creased, says slowly, “But she’s in Gryffindor.”