Charlie Weasley X Reader - Tumblr Posts

this was the cutest!

Charlie and the Chomping Cabbages

Watching Charlie Weasley had never been so rewarding. He’d done you the favour of pulling off his shirt in the midday heat, sweat perfectly outlining every single one of his ridiculously toned muscles. Shoulders and chest broad enough to wrestle young dragons and abs you could bounce a roll of Galleons off of. The leather breeches he wore clung to his arse as he squatted down to inspect the garden.

“And you think a dragon did this?” He pointed at the long gouges in the earth marring the once perfect line of Chinese Chomping Cabbages. A fair few still remained, but more still had been ripped from their cradles and strewn across the plot.

“I don’t think; I know.” You raised a challenging brow. No matter how fit you thought him, you knew he was dead wrong in this matter. “I saw it happen.”

This time he fully stood up, both hands propped on his hips in a decidedly aggravated manner. “Why didn’t you just say so from the start?”

“I did,” you stressed, already near your boiling point from the sheer thickheadnesses of the Dragonologist. “And I quote, ‘That can’t be right. I need to see the scene first hand’.” 

He scowled at your impression. Perhaps dropping your voice to a comical low and waving your arms about wasn’t quite the best way to convince him. What he didn’t know was that you’d never have teased anyone you didn’t like in such a way. Your usual tendency was all straight backs and stiff collars.

“Well, I stand by what I said then. I see no reason why a dragon would attack your cabbages like this unprovoked.”

You pounced. “Aha! So you admit that, if provoked, a dragon very well might have dragged their stabby claws right through?” Only, instead of jumping in place like you meant to, your ankle rolled upon landing. “Ahh!”

Your arms flailed as you fought to stay upright, and Charlie threw his arms forward in an attempt to catch you. All of his mass amounted to nothing with your legendary clumsiness, and you both hit the dirt in an unceremonial thud that knocked the breath right out of you.

The loss of air could also be attributed to his body on top of yours.

“Ow.” He started to shift, then froze before he could fully lift his weight. “Don’t look to your left.”

You looked to your left.

A gigantic cabbage bared its teeth an arm’s length away from your face. How you’d tended your garden without noticing what could be an award-winning Brassica you’d have to consider later.

“Ch-Charlie? How is not looking at it going to help?” you whispered. Who were you kidding? It’s not like speaking quietly was going to save either one of you.

“Merlin, he’s huge,” the wizard muttered. You stifled an inappropriate joke. Difficult, given the way your smaller body fit against his.

You knew you only had precious seconds before the produce launched itself at you. Your magic wasn’t quite fast enough to cast anything particularly useful before those teeth ripped out your throat. You needed something hard, and fast.

Hard and expendable, so obviously not that.

“On the count of three, shove off,” you instructed Charlie, keeping a close eye on the twitching leaves. You felt him nod, the bristle of his cheek rubbing against your own.

Inner green leaves started to arch inward. “1.”

The outer layer flared open like a lizard’s crest. “2.”

Clenched teeth loosened. “3!”

Palms flat to the earth, Charlie pushed himself away in a surge of power, and you brought your far hand around in front of you.

The weapon: a stray carrot that had rolled against where you lay.

The attack: jamming said carrot straight into the jaws about to devour you.

An average-sized Chinese Chomping Cabbage can be slowed down by a larger-than-average root vegetable. This, however, was the largest specimen you’d ever seen, and your carrot was on the smaller end of the spectrum.

Beggars can’t be choosers.

Its sacrifice gave you just enough time to roll away and for Charlie to sweep you up and into his arms. The cantankerous comestible hesitated just long enough to snap straight through the carrot before rotating to follow.

By this point, Charlie had whipped out his wand, while his other arm held you close against him where he could keep you safe. Unfortunately, this meant that you couldn’t quite reach your own wand jammed below your armpit. With a series of slashes, Charlie attacked.

“Diffindo!”

The slicing spell would have sheared straight through a regular cabbage. This one? Only the top couple of layers peeled away, further enraging their attacker.

“Charlie! This isn’t your average dinner cabbage! You have to use something stronger!” You fought his hold so you could grab your own wand.

“I’m trying! It’s not like I’ve ever done this before!”

Your wand came loose from its holster just as the behemoth rolled towards you, teeth clacking the whole while. The two of you stood with arms extended, sending spell after spell at the monster that never seemed to shrink or slow.

You could stand your ground and be forever known as the first recorded humans on the Romanian Reserve to die by Chomping Cabbage, or you could run and henceforth be labelled as the tamer and researcher who fled an overgrown vegetable.

Decisions, decisions.

One that was made for you with the loud roar that filled the air, then a gush of wind that nearly knocked the two of you right back to the ground. A flash of red filled your vision.

“Norberta!” Charlie cried. 

The Norwegian Ridgeback couldn’t quite flatten the cabbage with one swat of her powerful talons, but she could follow it with a slash of her tail and a stream of fire. An overwhelming stench of burnt vegetation filled your nostrils.

“Ugh. So long cabbage rolls and salad,” Charlie said in disgust. He gently turned you to look up at him. “You alright?”

Sweaty and covered with dirt as you both were, sex should have been the last thing on your mind. You’d just escaped death. A deadly dragon continued to stomp through the remaining rows of cabbages. Your crops were a lost cause. But Charlie looked down at you and only you, the deep blue of his eyes drinking you in while he continued to cradle you close.

“I told you Noberta had it out for my cabbages.”

His jaw dropped at your words, and you laughed aloud. As if you’d let his hunkiness deter you from proving yourself right. Charlie threw his head back and laughed along with you, the fullness of it invading your chest and giving you the courage you’d lacked until this point.

Up went your hands into his wild auburn locks, threading fingers through the curls and tugging his lips down to yours. He jerked in surprise at the touch, then deepened the kiss with a tilt of his head and a swipe to the seam of your lips.

And that was the story of how you snagged Charlie Weasley, one you told time and time again over countless flagons of beer and fresh-from-the-oven cabbage rolls (minus the teeth).

WC 1203

Cross-posted to Facebook, Tumblr, & AO3.

Hump Day drabble written for the Weasleys, Witches, & Writers Facebook group.

Prompt: “I’ve never done this before.”

Okay, so I blasted past the 1k word limit. See what 2 weeks away from home does to me? (and coffee too late in the day)

I have an intense craving now for cabbage rolls, the likes of which my childhood friend’s mother used to serve up to us on a regular basis. I haven’t tasted that nostalgia in what feels like years.

Chinese Chomping Cabbage users unite! Who needs spells when you have carnivorous vegetables?

I almost forgot to note my infrequent use of 2nd person. I recently started playing with this following a pov workshop in one of my writing discords. Let me know what you think!

sunburns & dragons (charlie weasley & reader) (8/??)

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

TAGLIST AT THE BOTTOM! (Let me know if you'd like to be added or if I've missed you!) A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out! I've been experimenting using my iPad + keyboard to edit which messed up my coordination on my laptop, if that's any excuse. It's just been hard to edit in this little rut where I can't bear to read what I write, but stick around, things are going to get exciting after this...

(GIF credits to @alicent-targaryen; I have so much trouble properly crediting when the GIF isn't the first in the set, ahh).

CHAPTER 8: Foolishly thinking things would slow down after Charlie moved in with you, you find that you're dead wrong. In fact, he finds a new way to integrate into your life: by attending the highly-anticipated book club meeting your mother had invited you to. But as you watch women flock to him like bees to honey, you find another problem to deal with, one that involves your heart. (6.6k words)

CHAPTER 8: TEA TIME (YOU'RE SO VAIN)

And all the girls dreamed that they'd be your partner, they'd be your partner...

“(Y/N)! Congratulations on the new place—”

“It’s every bit as beautiful as Bill described to us—”

“Perfect for a new couple, truly—”

Fred and George strode through the ajar door while talking amongst themselves as if they were walking into their own place. They displayed absolutely no respect for your sacred space. However, you felt no need to stop them from where you were in the kitchen—you were expecting them on this lovely Friday afternoon. After all, you’d invited them.

George cradled a large, wrapped box. He was strong but you could tell it was heavy by the slight strain in his arms. Fred, conversely, easily held a bottle of wine adorned with a ribbon on the neck.

“Thought we’d bring some housewarming gifts,” George said, setting his present on the counter.

“Had to guess most of it, as you and Charlie didn’t have a registry of any sorts,” Fred quipped, a smug look on his face, proud of his insinuation of you being married.

“Very funny.” You rolled your eyes. “When are you going to give that up? You seem to be the only ones who know the truth, but refuse to acknowledge it.”

You should’ve expected their answer that was given in unison: “Never.” 

“I do appreciate the gifts,” you said earnestly. Underneath their teasing tones, Fred and George were still your greatest friends, and you were appreciative of their generosity.

You laid two palms on the box George had set on your kitchen island. “What’s this?” 

“Open it up and see,” offered George. 

Delicately, you began to unwrap the gift, plucking the tape off and careful not to rip the paper. 

“Save us the anticipation and just rip it open, will you?” Fred suggested, finishing off his remark with an animalistic shake of his head, like he was a lion tearing his prey’s flesh. The prey being your present.

“I’ve been conditioned not to do that,” you explained with a gentle sigh, recalling all your mother’s scoldings when you used to tear into presents as a child. When you set the edges of the wrapping paper down, you beamed at what was in the box. “An espresso machine! Really, Georgie?”

George nodded proudly. “Figured you’d need your coffee first thing in the morning.”

You enveloped him in a warm hug. “Oh, you know me so well.”

George rolled up his sleeves. “I‘ll get it set up,” he offered.

“And I’ve procured some wine for when you need a sleeping aid,” Fred added.

“Thank you,” you responded. “ Now I’ll have my morning and nights covered.”

Fred placed a hand on your shoulder and gently guided you away. “Let’s see Charlie’s room.”

You stiffened. How many times and to how many people were you going to have to explain this one? “It’s not his room.”

“Then what is it?” Fred queried innocently.

“It’s a guest bedroom.”

“We can debate the semantics of the love lair”—Fred had to suppress a laugh when your face contorted menacingly, and even George tried to stifle his laugh—“ but for now, give me and Georgie a tour of the this lovely place, will you?”

When the two jests had finally left after dinner, you closed the door and leaned against it. Fred and George’s footsteps faded with each passing second. You drew a deep breath. After the initial onslaught of visitors, being alone felt splendid. 

You lit a candle and began drawing a bath when you returned to the bathroom. Stripped away were the comforts of Dobby’s aid and you were left alone to your devices. You were off to a good start and you were going to prove you could manage just fine. You submerged yourself in the hot water to wash the grime and the weight of workweek away. 

When you were clean and dry, you slipped into a silk nightgown, the one with thin straps that hung over your shoulders and whose hem just covered your thighs. It was by far the comfiest because of how little material there was. You walked into the kitchen to fetch yourself a glass of water but not without admiring your space shrouded in moonlight first. The only thing keeping you from touching a blanket of stars were your windows. The flowers you’d received from the move-in were still in full bloom, the steel from George’s espresso machine gleamed, and your couch was plush and cozy. 

It was lovely and inviting. You didn’t regret moving out at all, no matter how difficult the circumstances were initially.

“So this is what freedom feels like,” you hummed. You loved the feeling of wearing and doing anything you wanted—you were the master of the house. 

You then ambled back to your bedroom. You set the glass down and walked over to the window to appreciate another view of the city—something you didn’t get back at home. Your eyes found the dome structure of King’s Cross station immediately. Hues of yellow and magenta surrounded the space to guide passengers and it stuck out like a sore thumb in the silence of the night.

You shut your curtains and crawled into bed.  You wondered how Charlie was doing, if his train was timely and if the ride was comfortable. As you fell asleep, you hoped the answer was ‘yes, it was.’

You didn’t know what time it was when a light roused you. Your mind was still clouded with sleep and you had just the slightest bit of consciousness. A weak beam of light seeped out from below the bathroom door. You heard the running of the tap and the bristling of a toothbrush on teeth. 

When the bathroom light flickered off, a new one flickered on. This one was more faint, further from you. 

“Wow.” 

That was all you heard before the second light shut off. You were far too deep in sleep to inquire about what you were seeing or hearing. Probably ghosts of Charlie floating about, taunting you and luring you into wicked, unthinkable dreams. 

When you fully roused in the morning, you rubbed your eyes. The feeling of complete rest tingled pleasantly in your body. You walked over to the window where blackout curtains shielded you from the sunlight. You swung them open and let the light filter in, illuminating every crevice of your new bedroom. You walked into your washroom to brush your teeth, wash your face, and to tame your hair. 

Remembering that George had generously gifted you an espresso machine, you hurried out of your room to get a sip of that sweet substance. 

The first thing you saw when you exited your bedroom was a black topcoat hanging from the rack. Below it, mounted by the wall, was a pair of slightly scuffed leather boots. Fred and George left with all their belongings, so the coat and shoes couldn’t have been theirs. Your heart skipped a beat and fear consumed your body: there was an intruder in the house. 

The most rational thing to do would be to bolt out the front door and to call security for help and enlist someone more qualified to dispose of the intruder. But pride got the best of you, and you decided you weren’t a damsel in distress who needed saving anymore. It could’ve been Fred or George coming back to play an elaborate prank on you. And when you fell for it, they’d never let you live it down. And the concierge would never let in an unauthorized visitor, so yes, obviously, there was nothing to worry about. 

The only issue was that your wand was in the living room, shredding any chance of self -defence. Instead, you grabbed a metal shoe horn and tiptoed quietly down the hall to the kitchen where you could hear sounds of someone being there: a barstool squeaking, the kettle steaming, and some humming. The bass notes of a man’s voice wasn’t clicking in your memory. Now, you were starting to doubt it was Fred or George.

It was too late to retreat. “Get back!” you yelled with ferocity. You hated to admit, but you’d squeezed your eyes shut so you were waving a shoe horn aimlessly. How you passed Defence Against the Dark Arts was a mystery indeed.

When you heard nothing, and felt no signs of you being murdered, you opened your eyes.

This was no thief or intruder.

It was Charlie.

He playfully threw up both his arms in surrender, teabag in one hand, and pretended to fall backwards, tailbone digging into the kitchen counter. 

You set down your weapon. “What are you doing here?”

He flicked the tag off his tea bag with his thumb, then let out a low whistle. “I think the question you mean to ask is, what are you wearing?”

Charlie’s question echoed in your head as embarrassment stirred up inside you. What were you wearing, exactly?

You looked down for the answer: a thin-strapped silk dress that barely covered your shoulders and thighs. Well, all that while brandishing your favourite accessory: the shoe horn.

“Is that how you win your duels? By distracting your opponent?” he asked. 

You were so infatuated and caught up with the idea of independence that you had forgotten that Charlie had a key and that he was staying over. Combined with the adrenaline of thinking that there was someone in the house, you might as well have had amnesia. His presence did corroborate with the lights and voices you heard last night. Oh shit, come to think of it, he did warn you he was coming over before he departed on Wednesday, but in the mess of things like his and Bill’s untimely appearance and Alicia’s fervent teasing, you’d forgotten.

“This is just what I sleep in!” You were in a right state. Panicked, you tried to make fun of him. Maybe he would lose some of that unbreakable composure. “Don’t you sleep in the same thing? If the rumours are true, that is.”

Charlie chuckled lowly, his laughter rising in volume. “Are you seriously asking me what I sleep in?” he responded. “(Y/N), your mind is a literal cesspool.”

You didn’t want to give off the impression of being embarrassed, so you walked on into the kitchen like nothing happened. “I think I know the answer, based on your deflection,” you mumbled as you settled in the spot beside him. “You can sleep in whatever you like, Charlie, I won’t judge you.”

“I was going to say I often wear much less,” he added in a husky half-whisper by your earlobe.

Oh.

You hand squeezed the metal handle of the espresso portafilter. The coffee wasn’t going to be the only thing steaming in here. You didn’t dare turn your head. You could imagine the handsome smirk at the things he was making you think: Charlie and his naked torso covered in a sheen of sweat, languidly moving under the covers, each hard ridge of muscle skimming the sheets… “Well, that’s just dandy for you, isn’t it?”

“Do I detect a trace of sarcasm?” Charlie pouted, looking down at you. He gave you a nudge. “Need I remind you that you asked me first?”

You kept your mouth shut and fiddled with the top of the espresso grinder instead. It didn’t come off easily, so you tried to pry it off with your nail. When it felt like the grinder was going to take off your nail instead, you gave up.

“Have you made coffee before?” Charlie questioned. His larger hand enveloped the top and twisted it off with ease. 

You seethed silently. 

Charlie continued, unbothered by your lack of response: “I was thinking we could grab breakfast first and discuss how to use the espresso machine after.”

Charlie’s offer was sounding pretty scrumptious. You needed a jolt of caffeine stat if you were going to make it through the rest of the day. 

“Fine,” you conceded quickly, shutting the machine off. “Lead the way.”

“Are you going to get changed first?” Charlie snickered. “It’s a bit nippy for that little number, isn’t it?”

You grabbed the shoehorn from the island. “If you aren’t careful, this shoehorn will meet your head.”

His mouth twisted in a way that made your heart flutter. “Whoa, you’re pretty intimidating for someone so small.”

Beautiful, crooked words.

“I’m really not just saying it for show,” you warned. 

Charlie stepped back, face full of feigned fear. “I’ll believe it.”

You huffed and turned around.

“When I see it,” he added quickly.

You nearly stomped back to your room to change.

“So, if I am staying over Friday night, I’d like to keep some eggs in the fridge and bread in the pantry, at the very least. I get pretty peckish right after I wake up.”

Charlie was explaining his terms and conditions to you on the way back from the cafe where you enjoyed a breakfast sandwich and a coffee. You were grateful you kept your attire simple—a white shirt over some flowy culottes and a trench coat—because you would’ve felt ridiculous setting foot into a homey family establishment dressed otherwise. Charlie even had a long chat with the owners, a married couple in their late sixties who’d insisted on your meal being on the house. 

After breakfast, you’d forgiven him for his teasing and stopped by the grocers to pick up some pantry staples. Charlie cradled a paper bag in one arm and looped a bag of tangerines around the other. Despite all this grocery juggling, he held the door for you as you made your way to the lift and continued to talk about his favourite topic: breakfast.

“Of course you can,” you replied.

“I appreciate you being alright with it. After all, there’s a decent amount of space in your fridge. Do you even cook?”

You reddened. “I only moved in two days ago. I haven’t had the time to—”

“Hm.” He cocked his head as the lift ascended. “Not much of an excuse given the rest of the space looks so furnished.”

“Fred and George came over for dinner last night with takeaway,” you retorted.

Charlie made a strangled noise. “I wasn’t invited?”

“You were at Hogwarts,” you reminded him.

He laughed. “It’s the thought that counts. The notion of me being invited. I thought you Malfoys were all about keeping up appearances.”

“You seem to know very little, Charlie,” you said as you opened the door, “about Malfoys.”

“You’re killing me today, (Y/N),” he said. He set his paper bag down and began organising his purchases on the island. “I didn’t take you to be so mean.”

You froze midway through taking off your trench coat. “I am not mean.”

He placed a carton of eggs in the icebox. “So, so, mean.”

You opened your mouth to say something but your words caught in your throat. You decided not to entangle yourself in the web that was Charlie’s teasing though it felt nice that he was so concentrated on you, and that he kept the conversation going. You sauntered over to the bookshelf instead and plucked out one of Madame Millicent’s books. You turned to the page you’d bookmarked, knee-deep in learning how to knead the most buttery and flaky pie crust. It would’ve been a really mundane topic, but this Millicent woman used such vivid descriptors that you could practically taste the decadence in your mouth. 

“What’s this?” Charlie asked, walking towards the sectional.

“Something I’m reading for a book club.” Oh, shit. You really had to get going on those Madame Millicent books. The date for the afternoon tea was fast approaching and each second brought you closer to a due date of less than a week. 

“Hm.” Charlie plucked a book out from beside the empty space, flipped to a random page, and began reading aloud. “Create a vacuum around his appendage. Use your tongue to stroke the tip of him. This is his most sensitive region. Make sure to gently lap any juices. Remember to engage in eye contact with him. Your eyes will be his undoing.” Charlie looked up. “Did you know that, (Y/N)? You may be on your knees or writhing under him, but you are the temptress with control, he is your subordinate.

You blanked out and blinked at Charlie. “What?”

“Is this what you’re discussing at your book club?” Charlie asked, handing you the book. His fingers touched the header. “Oral sex in flowery prose?”

You frowned. “You made that up.”

“I didn’t, but I’m flattered you think I write so well.”

You grabbed the book from him and looked to where he had been narrating from. To your horror, these were the exact words he’d read, except the addition of your name when he tried to get your attention. “I didn’t know it was about… this. It was supposed to be about female empowerment.” You looked at the book you were initially reading, confusion splayed all over your face. “Or at least her first title was?”

You skimmed your fingers over the textured spine where ‘Madame Millicent: Pleasing the Patriarchy’ was deeply embroidered. Well, this radiated a completely different persona than ‘Madame Millicent: Maître de la Maison.”

“Of course you didn’t, Miss Malfoy,” Charlie said with a snicker. “Wait until your father hears about what you’re reading now that you live all alone.”

You scoffed. “Actually, my mother was the one who recommended it.”

Charlie cleared his throat very audibly. “I’m sorry, what?”

You nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact with him.

Charlie shook his head. “Not the fair maiden, Narcissa Malfoy. She would never muddle her name with such sacrilegious affairs.” He stopped when a new train of thought struck him. “But that’d give our mothers a mutual topic to talk about, if they ever met.”

You eyed him curiously. Was he implying the saintly Molly Weasley indulged in erotica? Feeling awkward, you continued to talk about the book club.

“Well, Charlie,” you started, about to shatter his misconceptions about your mother.  “My mother is part of the book club that Madame Millicent is speaking at next week. She’s invited me as well, hence why I’m reading her titles. And you’ll find that lonely housewives adore books like these.”

“Seriously?” Charlie’s eyes lit up delightfully. “You get to meet the temptress in person?” he asked excitedly. “Can I come, too?”

“Why would you want to do that?” You snapped your book shut. “There won’t be a single man there.”

“Why, (Y/N), because I’m extremely well-read. And I care deeply for female empowerment, especially in the brazen manner Madame Millicent portrays it.”

You cocked your head and narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. “Really?” You shook the book he was holding. “Or just this title in particular?”

He eyed you curiously, a smirk spreading across his face. “I’ll have all these titles finished by next week.”

“You shouldn’t overestimate your ability to read through all this, it’s quite a bit.”

“Oh, I know my limits,” Charlie affirmed. “I’ll see you at this afternoon tea.”

“You really read through it all?” you asked Charlie, voice thick with doubt, as you walked on the cobblestone entrance. 

Tea was to be hosted this afternoon at a venue your mother had written to you about. It was such a lovely place, green and whimsical, and its dreamy appearance befit its claim as a popular wedding destination. Evergreen shrubs, touched with the slightest amount of morning dew and rain, lined the path you and Charlie were taking. It had rained earlier this morning when the both of you were getting dressed in your apartment. 

“(Y/N),” Charlie started. “We read all day yesterday. All day. You didn’t even let me take a washroom break.”

That was true. He’d gotten back from Hogwarts late Friday evening, slipped into his room, and woke up before you to work the espresso machine for the two of you. Then, you got right to it. You had both claimed the opposite ends of the sectional and read through the rest of the titles in preparation for today. Charlie seemed content to spend his Saturday with you, and you were elated when he nestled into the couch and made no plans to leave. He did head back late Saturday evening to the Burrow, but came back this morning to dress for the event. 

You had Charlie for a full weekend, and you couldn’t suppress a smile at the thought of it.

“I had to oversee you reading the other two titles,” you teased. “Seeing you were so affixed on Pleasing on Patriarch.”

”It’s what I know best. I’m sure Millicent and I will have colourful discussions on it.”

You were received by a dapper little house elf in a bowtie at the front door who guided you through the hallway inside the mansion, then helped you down the back down some stone steps, before leading you into the gardens. It didn’t seem sensible or at all seasonable for afternoon tea to be hosted outside this time of year, but a warming spell that arced across the pavilion kept the women at the round table warm. The trees were blazing with hues of red and orange, nearly ready to shrivel and die as soon as the temperature dipped any further. At least they provided some colour in contrast to the dull, grey skies. 

“How are you feeling? Cold?” Charlie asked. He fiddled with the collar of your tweed cardigan that you’d layered over a long dress.

You perked quickly at his concern for you and the brush of his finger near your neck. His touch was the only thing that was shiver-inducing. “I feel fine. What about you?”

”I’m at the perfect temperature,” he said as he adjusted his suit. He was wearing an outfit a touch toned down from when you had dinner with your parents. While you liked his bedhead and the mess of curls that he usually sported, you had to admit that he was unusually beautiful when he tamed his hair. It drew attention to the sharp juts of his jaw and cheekbones that were usually hidden.

The two of you continued down the steps and the further you got, the more the stunning set up came into view. A round table was constructed in the centre of the gardens. A tablecloth decorated in rich autumn hues—deep red and gold—draped over it. The centrepiece which consisted of candles, pumpkins, and a leafy wreath snaked around the middle.

“Charlie!”

You both looked up.

This voice did not belong to your mother. It didn’t belong to anyone you were particularly familiar with.

But when a grey-haired woman stood up, you could pinpoint exactly who’d called.

“Mrs. Cromwell!” Charlie responded first.

“Cecile!” she yelled in cheery correction, still a ways away from the base of the steps. She lifted herself from the chair, gloved hands by her side to help with her balance, and ambled as quickly as her old age would take her to where you and Charlie were standing. Charlie, not wanting an elderly lady to walk unsteadily to him, ran over and you followed. Cecile gracefully extended her arm as if pulling him over. Time had softened her bones and compressed some cartilage, and she seemed very, very small next to Charlie. “Remember me?”

“How could I forget?” Charlie chuckled, placing a kiss on the back of her hand. Cecile giggled at his show of chivalry. 

As the twosome continued their conversation, you caught your mother beckoning you over with a glance. You left Charlie and Cecile and shuffled over.

“Why did you bring him?” Narcissa whispered, pulling you in by the arm. “I thought I made the invitation exclusive to you.”

“I informed you in a letter, mother,” you rebutted. 

“And I responded saying there were no extra seats at this function. It is extremely exclusive, (Y/N).” Narcissa’s tone was sharp and stern. “Charlie absolutely cannot be accommodated.”

“Okay,” you said. “Then I’ll leave.”

”You are not leaving,” Narcissa insisted in a harsh whisper. “Madame Millicent is expecting you.”

You looked back up to where Mrs. Cromwell was leading Charlie back to the round table, a funny sight indeed seeing that Charlie had no issues ambulating, but Mrs. Cromwell was roleplaying a nurse supporting an elderly patient at St Mungos.

“Mrs. Cromwell certainly seems to want him here,” you muttered through your teeth. “She’d happily let him take her place.”

Narcissa let out a long, hopeless sigh, and her hands lifted to rub at her temples. “I kindly ask you to ask him to leave.”

”But—”

“Good afternoon, ladies,” a voice called out from the back of the house. Twelve heads spun around to the lady standing at the top of the steps. She was short, slightly stocky in nature, and cloaked in beautiful deep purple robes. Her greying hair was pulled back into a bun on the top of her head. Her features were foxy and homely, and if you didn’t have the context that you did as to who she was, you’d never have guessed she was Madame Millicent. 

Her house elf scrambled in front of her. “Ladies,”—he glanced at Charlie—“and gentleman, may I present to you, Madame Millicent?”

Everyone at the table stood up as Millicent proceeded down the same steps you and Charlie had just taken.  

“Who do we have here?” Millicent called out, fixated on Charlie whose arm now permanently belonged to Mrs. Cromwell.

”Charlie Weasley, madame.”

”Weasley?” she questioned with a quirk of a well-groomed eyebrow. “Now, where have I heard that before?”

Your breath caught.

Narcissa gave you a pointed look and shook her head slowly. If Madame Millicent hated the Weasleys a fraction of the amount your parents did, you’d truly come to regret inviting Charlie.

”Now I know why that sounds so familiar!” Millicent exclaimed suddenly, clapping her hands together with glee. “Molly Weasley. Is that your mother?”

Charlie nodded. “Yes.”

”Such a small world we live in, don’t we?” Millicent continued. “She came to my last book signing and we had a chat about my recipes that lasted over an hour. Such a lovely woman, so lovely. I reckon I’ll be looking to her for advice on homemaking for my next book. A powerful woman, too, raised seven kids, if I remember correctly, and put them all through school.” She looked up Charlie up and down. “She forgot to mention how handsome her son was.” 

“Handsome? Wait until you see my older brother,” Charlie said, brushing off a compliment for the first time you’d witnessed.

Charlie’s comment certainly piqued Mrs. Cromwell’s interest. She looked up at him with an inquisitive look while Millicent did a quick assessment of the available seats and frowned.

“Well, that just won’t do,” Millicent tutted. “Gibbly, fetch me another seat for Mr. Weasley. He can be seated right next by me.”

Gibbly, Millicent’s house elf, dashed back inside the house to retrieve a chair. You and Narcissa just looked on with astounded expressions (like mother, like daughter). Neither of you expected Millicent would be so taken by Charlie. 

“You could’ve given me that honour, Millie,” Mrs. Cromwell huffed with a displeased expression. “I wouldn’t mind sitting next to him.” When Millicent just smiled, you relaxed. It must’ve been an old joke between friends, you reckoned. 

After Charlie was seated, tea had made its rounds. You stirred your earl grey with trepidation, knowing your mother was looking on, ensuring you were following good tea etiquette. You’d stirred for close to two minutes, preoccupied with trying to catch a glimpse of Charlie. You were seated left of Narcissa, so six seats from Charlie which was six seats too far and at a very odd angle. 

“I want to get to know the unfamiliar faces in this room. Would you mind introducing yourself, love?” Millicent was staring at you.

You set your spoon down. “I’m (Y/N) Malfoy,” you said. “I’m Narcissa’s daughter. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” 

“Of course, I should’ve known,” Millicent said with a smile. “I can see your mother in you, but you take after your father so well.” 

You almost retched. 

Then, she turned to Charlie. “And what brings you here today, Charlie? I don’t recall seeing your name on the guest list.”

“Actually, (Y/N) was the reason I came today.”

Millicent leaned in. “Really?”

“Her interest in your writing rubbed off on me,” Charlie explained. “I was thrilled to have the opportunity to meet you in person. Take it as you will, but I was quite literally on my knees to be here today.”

You squinted. Was that… a patch of red spreading on Millicent’s cheeks?

“Well,” Millicent chirped happily. “Let’s start our discussions then.”

The first part of the discussion focussed on her first two titles, Maître de La Maison and Tips for the Domesticated Witch. Women around the table praised her recipes and how the results were always a hit with all their guests at functions they hosted. You nibbled quietly at a cucumber sandwich as the conversation droned on, having nothing of substance to offer. Charlie, on the other hand, seemed very interested, and even asked questions: “Millicent, precisely, how important is the bain-marie method for a perfect cheesecake?”

“Now,” Millicent said suddenly with a clap. “Let’s move on to what I know you ladies are really here for.”

A wave of giggles chorused through the pavilion. You looked to your mother for solidarity, but she remained tight-lipped and looked displeased. Well, there was only one last book left to discuss…

“I wish I could’ve attended an earlier session, but I was touring Northern Europe for the release of Pleasing the Patriarchy all summer. I’m delighted to be back in England to discuss my latest bestseller with you.”

“And I wish Chuck was still here to witness all my learnings through that book,” Mrs. Cromwell added in a serious tone. “You couldn’t have finished that book any earlier, Millie?” Her quip earned a round of subdued laughs. 

“Well, as I say to every woman, it’s never too late,” Millicent assured. “I reckon a steady dose of intercourse will keep all of us healthy and young on all accounts.”

”Trust me, I know,” Mrs. Cromwell said. “But I find men my age are so selfish and well-worn in their ways. I’m from a cursed generation where a woman’s pleasure was always secondary to her husband’s.”

“And it’s so awful,” Millicent agreed. “But you’re a crafty woman, Cecile. You must know a way around such a dated practice.”

Mrs. Cromwell made a face like the answer was obvious. “Of course, I only entertain the younger men now.”

An unabashed chorus of laughter erupted from the table this time. Mrs. Cromwell sent a wrinkled wink at Charlie, who smiled back. 

“Speaking of younger men,” Madame Millicent changed the topic and looked to Charlie, “It’s fate that we have one of those here today. What do you think of the advice laid out in my latest release?”

“You’re still talking about Pleasing the Patriarchy, correct?” Charlie repeated.

“Yes.” Millicent nodded. “I’ve consulted a fair share of men as preliminary research, but I’m curious as to what you think of it, the feasibility and authenticity of the tips, that is, if you could comment on both.”

“Well,” Charlie started, leaning back in his seat, “I reckon your advice is fabulous, very feasible. You’ve really captured the steps precisely. Put it in better words than I ever could.”

“Hm.” Millicent seemed mighty proud of herself. “And have you been able to integrate these tips in the bedroom?”

“Ah,” Charlie stalled, his breath catching in his throat in another historical first. What happened to the ever-so-confident Charlie Weasley you’ve come to know? He cast you a quick glance. You imagined his hesitation was due to the fact that your mother was right beside you, and he was being lightly coerced to talk about his sex life despite keeping things as vague as possible until this point. The only people in the room who knew about you and Charlie were your mother and Mrs. Cromwell; you weren’t certain Millicent or the twelve others had connected the dots.  

If Narcissa weren’t here, he might’ve been more adventurous in his answer. He shifted his attention back to Millicent in a flash; the untrained eye wouldn’t have sensed any hesitation. “Of course. I wouldn’t pass up an opportunity for self-improvement.”

“How considerate of you,” Mrs. Cromwell added with a dreamy, longing sigh. 

“Very much so,” solidified Millicent.

“Millicent, what do we do if our husbands are so consumed in their work at the Ministry that they won’t even pay us the time of day when they get home?” a younger woman in her thirties, draped in a dark teal shawl, piped up. Her seat-mate nodded in agreement. “I don’t even have the opportunity to practise anything I read. I’m so terribly frustrated, Millicent.”

“Sadly, that’s not out of the ordinary,” Millicent consoled, sympathy written on her face. “Has he always been so detached, Anna?”

“Ever since we’ve started living together, it’s as if the passion has faded.”

Millicent nodded. “Through my research, there are a number of things that decimate passion in the bedroom: children, work, and moving in together. When you move in together, you sacrifice the feelings of excitement and mystery that fuelled the passion and intimacy at the beginning of your relationship. We tend to absorb our roles as homemaker or a mother and less of a sexual partner.”

Anna sighed.

“Charlie, do you live alone?” Millicent queried. 

“I live with (Y/N),” Charlie answered without missing a beat. “Most days, anyways.”

Millicent’s mouth rounded. Mrs. Cromwell leaned in suspiciously at this revelation. Likely, her head was whirring around the fact that you spent time with Charlie in the bedroom. 

“And if you’re comfortable sharing,” Millicent asked in such a delicate but firm manner that you know she’d definitely prodded like this before, “what fluctuations in your physical relationship have you experienced since moving in?”

“I reckon everything’s stayed the same,” Charlie mused, his eyes brooding in deep thought, “or honestly, at an increased frequency.”

Both you and your mother immediately turned as red as the sugar-glazed strawberries on the tart on the serving tray. Your mother coughed, the insinuation that Charlie had punched into the conversation—that you and him had sex—interfering with her ability to masticate. You buried your head down to evade curious glances and looked down at the table cloth. Wow, has crocheting always yielded such beautiful results?

Millicent leaned her face into the palms of her hand. “Why do you think that is?”

“Well, as you said, we shouldn’t forget our roles as partners. And with a partner so beautiful, it’s not hard.”

You were mortified. You thought about asking Gibbly to help you dig a hole into the ground so you could block out all the chatter about your fictitious sex life.

“Well, my love,” Millicent redirected her attention to Anna, “here’s what I think you can do to bring back the spark in the bedroom….”

An hour later, afternoon tea was nearing an end. Gibbly cleared out the trays and teacups as you followed the other woman on the trail back into the manor. Charlie stood back with Mrs. Cromwell by a gate. This old woman and her spindly claws just weren’t going to let go of him! Your eyes followed his body as he leaned down, almost on his knees to listen to what she was whispering to his ear, a corner of his mouth pulled up in handsome amusement. 

‘She’s probably inviting him to her bed!’ you thought. 

“(Y/N),” Narcissa called, gently pulling at your arm. “Let’s go somewhere private to have a chat.”

“Sure,” you responded, walking with your mother northward but eyes still on Charlie southward. 

As you walked, you felt a sharp tug on your heart when Anna skipped over, teal dress grazing the grass, to join in on Charlie and Mrs. Cromwell’s conversation. Charlie’s smile was as friendly as ever as he chatted with a married woman who’d loudly and publicly announced she was lonely—practically a mating call if you’d ever heard one. He couldn’t be so deaf or stupid to ignore that, could he? 

You felt forgotten even though Charlie made such a grand display of you being his partner.

You almost tripped over a divot in the ground, but you couldn’t stop staring at what was unfolding behind you. It reminded you of his chummy conversation with Mallory at the bar, him never brushing off Mrs. Cromwell’s forward advances, Millicent praising his looks and asking him invasive questions, and now Anna giggling at him. If he could be so forthcoming with all these random women in front of you, how many of them was he charming behind your back? All while crawling his way to sharing the same apartment as you?

But it didn’t matter, did it? Your chest felt heavy at the realization that he wasn’t doing anything immoral or wrong. If you were together, you’d be well within your rights to be suspicious. Factually, you were the one who tangled him in this ruse, and the only credit you could give yourself was that it got a little more complicated and spindly than you could handle. So, you forced yourself to swallow the apprehension about the women in Charlie’s life the best you could. 

Narcissa led you over to a more secluded part of the garden where only the trees could hear your conversation. And you were going to be glad for it. 

“Is it true?” Narcissa prodded.

“What’s true?”

“What Charlie said?”

“He said a lot of things,” you reminded her. “But yes, mother, the bain-marie method will yield a better-tasting cheesecake.” 

“No,”—Narcissa shook her head—“about your sexual activity.”

“Mother!” you exclaimed in a whisper. You leaned out to make sure Charlie hadn’t come any closer. “I’d prefer if we discussed it later, or never at all, especially as it was already dissected in front of everyone.”

“I understand,” she said. “It’s a difficult topic, but I regret not sitting you down when you were younger, I truly do, (Y/N). It was a failure on my part. I had your father talk to Draco about these matters, but I need to make sure you’re taking care of your reproductive health before something unwanted happens.

“Of course I am!” you promised. “You needn’t worry about it.” Because we aren’t in a relationship. We aren’t having sex.

You wanted out of here. This conversation and the charades that followed didn’t feel exciting anymore. It now felt empty and wrong. It was a chore, trying to keep in line with what Charlie had announced, and you were certain he didn’t put a single care behind his words to you. 

“Well, it would give me peace of mind if you made an appointment with our Healer. There are many options for contraception nowadays, much more than when I was a young witch.”

“Contra—”

“It doesn’t have to be at the first appointment, but Healer Tousignant will go over your options and you should take some time to decide what works best for you. I promise, she is excellent at what she does. And I won’t ask anything of it afterwards.”

You skimmed through all the options in your head. If you refused Narcissa’s offer, you’d be subject to more questions about your sexual health, and who knows what inopportune place she’d choose to talk about it next? In front of your cousins during Christmas in Switzerland? In the middle of Diagon Alley? At dinner where Draco and your father would be present?

If you just accepted the appointment, you could conceal the fact you weren’t in Charlie’s bed (despite a naughty crevice of your brain that controlled your dreams hoping you were). 

A dull pain interlaced with the beat of your heart at the possibility of that person not being you. Reality told you it wasn’t going to be. It could be Mallory, Mrs. Cromwell, Millicent, Anna— 

“Fine,” you agreed with a forced smile. “Tell me when, and I’ll be there.”

>> NEXT CHAPTER (COMING SOON)!

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

TAGLIST: @badgerqueen07 @superduckmilkshake @k-k-merlin @kisskittenn @pluiesdefleurs@lilianelena39 @bathwater101 @evilunicorns4minions @noah-uhhh-what @earth-to-lottie @kissingyourgrl @sihtricswife @adalia-jaycee @anuttellaa @weasley-clan (Let me know if I missed you, or if you want to be added!)

Two Thumbs Up

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 510

Summary: You’ve had your eye on Charlie Weasley for quite a few years now, but it isn’t until your mutual friend steps in that you finally get on the right path.

A/N: been on a charlie kick and i also love tonks so here’s this idea that i thought of

-

“Ooh, and looks like Weasley’s spotted the Snitch! Charlie, that is, because Merlin knows that there’s way too many of those gingers-”

“Miss Tonks…”

“Right, anyway, one of the other Weasleys - Fred, maybe? - delivers a crazy hit - and ouch, that’s gonna hurt! But nice one, Fred! No, George, sorry! Wait, you are Fred?”

“Miss Tonks.”

Keep reading

Charlie's 30th Birthday (Charlie x Female MC)

Summary: I know a lot of people think canon Charlie is Ace and I respect that (and plan to write about that sometime), but here’s one idea I had on why Charlie was single all those years. And yes, I know he’s still unmarried in 2014 (noted by Rita Skeeter), but my MC doesn’t need a ring to be happy, okay? 😂

**Warning: Angst & smut. Implied HPHM deaths. Reader discretion is advised. (This is my first time writing this level of smut so feedback would be much appreciated!)

Word Count: ~4300 

Note: I can’t stop editing this fic for some reason, so I’m posting it before I lose my mind lol. I questioned scrapping it, but I put a lot of time into it and I also wanted to post at least some angst before I write more fluff. Feedback is appreciated 😬

“Can I help you?” a burly middle aged man asks as you cross the threshold into the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary. Snow-covered cottages line the shoveled dirt path ahead, and you can make out the start of two enormous dragon enclosures in the distance. You don’t need to be next to them to tell they tower over the already impressive entrance gate you just came through.

“Is Charlie Weasley here today?” you ask, clutching the strap of your messenger bag for support. “I’ve, uh, got a birthday present for him.”

The man laughs, his breath visible in the winter air. “Are you kidding? That man will hardly take holidays off, let alone his birthday. Glad to see he’s got a visitor though.” The man points down the path. “He should be in the second last house on the right.”

Thanking the man, you start down the path and try your best to ignore the nerves bubbling up in your stomach. You take in a breath as you approach the cottage, surprised to find the front door open despite the freezing temperatures, but you force yourself forward anyway, determined not to chicken out.

“Excuse me,” you say, your glove-covered hands trembling as you step inside. “I’m looking for a redheaded birthday boy. Well, he might be greying now, he’s pretty ol-” Chills cascade down your body, and your legs suddenly feel as heavy as lead when the man at the table in front of you lowers the Daily Prophet issue in his hands. All witty remarks you had planned out to laugh your way through the awkwardness vanish from your mind like a dry erase board being wiped clean. You begin to wonder if, at thirty years old, you’re too young to have a stroke because this must be what it feels like. Even after four and a half years, you can’t believe the effect that fully freckled face and head of red hair has on you.

Those familiar brown eyes blink up at you, wide and confused. “(Y/N),” he breathes, and a whole new wave of emotions hits you as you take in his gruff, raspy voice. His chin and newly defined jawline are covered in scruff, and his mess of red hair that you have always adored now dangles around his face instead of being tied back into a ponytail. There is no other word for it; he’s gorgeous.

A strangled, “Hey,” is all you can manage. Your throat is dry, and you have no idea what to do. A part of you wants to run up to him and hug him, letting go of all the overwhelming emotions you’re feeling. Another part wants to turn around and run as fast as your lead-filled legs will carry you, cursing yourself out along the way for thinking this was a good idea. And another part of you just wants to be close to him and to stay that way forever.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, still frozen at the kitchen table. The fact that he doesn’t move to hug you or even offer you a smile hurts more than you expect.

Keep reading

I’ll Do What It Takes|Charlie Weasley

Pairings: Charlie Weasley x fem!reader

Summary: it’s time for the quidditch World Cup so you and your boyfriend decide to go with his family.

Warnings: swearing, blood, fighting, use of pet names, teeth-rotting fluff

A/N: this oneshot follows the book events in Goblet of Fire at what happens at the World Cup.

The Quidditch World Cup. Your boyfriend invited you to go with his family. And of course you said yes. You had met his family a couple of times usually spending your holidays with them when you weren’t treating wounds.

Working in the medical ward is how you met Charlie. You were a year younger than him in Hogwarts, maybe that’s why you never talked to each other.

Though you quickly became friends and then one drunken kiss lead to where you are now. Two years of solid dating and hopefully forever left to go.

Currently you were packing your trunks to leave for the Burrow when Charlie got done taking care of the new baby dragons. Even though you heard the door close you kept folding clothes.

Two arms snaked around your waist and kissed the top of your head, “Hey, love.” Charlie greeted.

You grinned turning your head towards him planting a kiss on his lips. “Hey, darling.”

Charlie planted kisses on your cheek and started down. You tilted your head to the side, giving him more access as he trailed kisses down your neck. You giggled shaking your head

“Baby, I need to finish folding these clothes or were never going to get ready to leave.”

He huffed, halting his loving kisses and just nuzzled his face in the crook your neck as you continued to fold.

Once you were done and had shut the trunks you spun around in his arms wrapping your arms around his neck. “How are the babies?”

“Doing great, love. John’s taking over for me while we’re visiting this week.” You nodded.

“We’re taking a portkey right? I don’t want to apparate that far. I get a bit uneasy just thinking about it.” Charlie nodded.

“It’s an old bucket hat, out there.”

So you and Charlie trekked up the hill to the portkey.

You landed in the field outside of the Burrow and once you and Charlie stepped in you were attacked with kisses and hugs from everyone.

Molly Weasley pounced on you first, “Y/N, dear, it’s so good to have you!”

“Hi!” You smiled brightly accepting the hugs from Molly, Arthur, Bill, Ginny, Ron, even Hermione Granger.

When you saw the twins you gave them fist bumps, you kept your voice low, “How’s the joke shop coming along?”

“Mum was mad that we didn’t get as many O.W.L.S as she thought we would. Said we were wasting our brains on jokes.” George explained.

You have a sympathetic smile, “Just so you know, I think it’s so cool you can use your brains like that. Charlie and I will be the first ones in line, promise.” Fred and George’s smiles lit up beaming at you. Fred jutted his thumb towards you.

“Keep her, Charlie, or I’ll kidnap her.” You shook your head, grinning as Charlie came up wrapping an arm around your shoulders and placing a quick kiss to your temple.

“She’s stuck with me forever, sorry boys.” You rolled your eyes with a chuckle.

Later that Sunday evening, Arthur, Fred, George, and Ron left to go pick up Harry from the Dursleys.

You were sitting next to Charlie as he was talking to Bill and you. Charlie had his hand on your knee as he talked to his brother.

When everyone got back Arthur was scolding Fred about the ton-tongue toffee he gave to Dudley Dursley. When Molly got involved into the match; you watched the Golden trio and Ginny run upstairs.

When you were setting up dinner, Charlie and Bill had the task of setting up the tables for dinner. Charlie was fighting with his table in the air with Bill’s.

“Charlie, get him!” You cheered, and it seemingly distracted Charlie to lose a leg of his table. When Bill fixed the tables you walked over to Bill giving him a high-five.

“You rotten witch!” Charlie exclaimed. “You two cheated me out.”

“I’m sorry you got distracted by me.” You mock frowned walking back over to your boyfriend.

“You’re just too gorgeous, how could I not?” You rolled your eyes lightly hitting him in the chest as he chuckled.

Dinner was lovely. You sat next to Charlie; listening to Fred, George and him talk about the World Cup.

“It’s got to be Ireland.” Your boyfriend said talking with his mouthful of potato. You rolled your eyes.

“Bulgaria has Victor Krum.”

“I say,” you started turning to the boys, “Ireland’s most definitely going to win, but Lynch isn’t going to catch the snitch. It’ll be Krum.”

George rose his eyebrows, “Did you play quidditch at Hogwarts?”

“‘Course I did. Y/h’s seeker.”

“Woah! Harry’s a seeker himself. George and I are beaters.”

Charlie grinned watching you get along with his family.

The next morning, Ginny and Hermione had woken you up since they had to take the portkey. You had planned on apparating with Charlie, Percy, and Bill. It was just so you could sleep in a bit longer, but that plan had obviously failed. You were now up searching for something to do. Not wanting to wake anyone else, you slipped into the twin’s room. You knew Charlie was staying there.

Charlie seemed to be up too; he was reading a book. He looked up when you opened the door and grinned. Silently, you waddled over to him with your blanket wrapped around you and crawled into the bed next to him.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asked, looking down at you.

“Couldn’t go back to sleep. Ginny and Hermione had left and it woke me up. It’s alright though, I’ll just stay here with you.” He nodded kissing your forehead and putting the book on the bedside table.

He brought you in his arms cuddling you close to him. Charlie was always so warm and it was so easy to fall asleep in his arms.

By the time you all had apparated and found your tent. You watched as Arthur Weasley was having so much fun with the matches. Bless him.

You were sitting on the couch reading next to Charlie when the trio of Hermione, Harry and Ron had come back.

When you made it to the top box you found your seat next to Charlie and Fred. Fred and George had bet all their savings with Ludo Bagman so they couldn’t get souvenirs. You were proud to know they bet on what you thought was going to happen. So, you bought them both shamrock hats.

When you ran into the malfoys, they eagerly waved and hugged you. They were great friends with your parents and you used to babysit draco. You ruffled up his hair and his cheeks turned pink as he tried to fix it.

“You’re friends with the Malfoy’s?” Harry Potter asked with a tilt of his head.

“Mhm, I used to babysit Draco.”

“I cant believe you could handle that git.” Ron muttered watching Draco stalk off.

As the game went on, at tense moments you would squeeze Charlie’s leg. He would grin and shake his head with a small chuckle.

After the game, you watched the twins eagerly accept their money from Bagman. “Thanks, Y/N. We went with what you told us.”

You shook your head, “Merlin, glad I wasn’t wrong.”

Everyone was celebrating in the tent and you were leaning against Charlie’s shoulder on the couch. You assumed you had fallen asleep because woke up to screams. It seems you were the the only one up when you stepped outside the tent to see a marching bad of death eaters. They were holding four muggles in the air like they were puppets. You screamed running back in.

Death Eaters.

“Charlie!” You yelled waking him, Bill, and Percy up.

“What’s wrong, Baby?” He muttered, sleepiness still coating his voice.

“We have to get out of here. Now.” Charlie shot awake.

“What’s happening?” Percy asked, ready to spring into action.

“Death eaters.” You four ran and got Mr. Weasley quickly explaining. You grabbed Ginny and Hermione leading them all outside the tent. You threw a robe over your nightdress and gathered everyone.

Fred and George were supposed to keep up with Ginny. You took the task of Harry, Hermione, and Ron.

Before Charlie ran off to fight he pulled you in for a sweet kiss. It was needy and passionate.

It was a promise to come back.

“You better stay safe.” You muttered.

“You better kick arse.” He smirked before running after Bill and Percy.

“Let’s go.” You, Ron, Harry, and Hermione took off. That’s when you ran into Draco.

He was so casual. You knew why. He made a comment to Ron about his falling and you rolled your eyes.

“Draco, just stay safe. Please.” You whispered to him as the other three kept running.

“You too.” You took off easily catching up with the three. You heard a man cast the dark mark spell. That’s when you took off after him.

The three kids were shouting not to, but you were going to take him down.

You were stalking him in the forest. Who was the prey? Him or you? You didn’t know. It was getting to quiet.

Then it happened.

The man grabbed you and slammed you on the ground. He kicked you, and you rolled off to the side with a groan.

“Son of a bitch.” You hissed.

When you got up he landed his fist in your nose. You finally fired back kneeing him in the abdomen and punching his nose now. He groaned taking a few steps back before he pounced again yanking you by your hair to face him.

You couldn’t see your attacker. It was too dark in the woods to tell. You heard shouts from where you came from, but when they were coming this way he dragged you by your hair. He hid both of you behind a tree a finger placed to your lips to keep quiet.

You bit his finger and he muttered crazy bitch or something of the sort. He kept quiet as the other man passed finding an elf, Winky.

When he was gone, you took the chance to shove him out of your reach.

—-

As you were fighting, the golden trio and Arthur went back to the tent to find out what was happening.

When they arrived, Charlie quickly stood, “Where’s Y\n?”

“She’s not back?” Harry gasped.

“No? She left with you? Where is she?”

—-

The man had shook you like a rag-doll some more. When you were on the ground, he took the chance to disapparate. You picked yourself up and dragged yourself all the way back to your tent.

“Where is she?” Charlie asked again through the tent.

“Where is who?” You asked slipping into the tent.

To say the least you looked awful. Your robe and nightdress had been ripped and blood splattered across it. Your face was littered with cuts and bruises. Your lip was cut, your nose was bleeding and bruised. Your upper arm had a gash bleeding. Your feet got torn up by the sticks. Your hair was frizzy and sticks were in it from him yanking you and throwing you down.

“Holy shit.” Charlie muttered running over to you. “You look awful.”

You chuckled, coughing a little bit of blood, “You should see the other guy.”

Charlie turned angrily towards the golden trio. “What happened?”

“She ran off into the forest. Whoever cashed the dark mark was right there in our grasp. Y/n took her chance and pounced. We would’ve chased after her but we were circled by the Ministry and having to deal with that. Though I thought Mr. Diggory was searching for a culprit. How did he not find you fighting someone?”

You grinned showing your blood-stained teeth, “he grabbed me by the hair and told me to stay quiet behind the tree. I took the chance and bit his finger.”

“Badass.” Fred smirked from the back of the room.

“Badass.” You agreed, leaning on Charlie. “I haven’t had a physical fight without wands in ages. I kinda just attacked him.”

“Did you get a look at him?” Arthur Weasley asked.

You shook your head, “No. it was too dark.”

Charlie set you up on the table and got his wand to fix you up. “No, babe.” You muttered shaking your head, “I’m the healer, remember?”

“Yes, but you’re hurt. I’ll do what it takes to keep you safe.”

You smiled softly as he patched you up. You were as good as new since there were no magic affects. You sighed, “How’d you rip your shirt? Is that a new scar?” You asked running your finger along it.

“Yeah, badass.” You giggled as he carried you off to bed.

When you got home the next morning you and Charlie decided to stay a few more days. You were cuddled up in bed next to your boyfriend a little sore from last night events at the World Cup. You ran your finger along his scars drawing little patterns.

“Did you mean what you said?”

He hummed glancing from his book to you, “What’re you talking about, Love?”

“That you said you would do what it takes?”

“‘Course I did. I’ll make sure you always come home. I’ll do what it takes.”

You nodded, “You too Weasley.”

“I’ll always do what it takes to bring you home back to me.” You sealed your promise with a kiss.

This was great! Couldn’t stop smiling!!

Hi! Is it ok if you do a Charlie Weasley x reader blurb or fic where they never do PDA and you wouldn’t know they are together unless you were really close to them. Then at Christmas with the Weasley’s the show a bit of PDA thinking that no one is around but they are. I really hope that makes sense. Don’t worry if you don’t want to do it xx

I sincerely apologise for how long these are taking, but i am hoping to get the final 6 out after this quicker :)

That being said, i love Charlie and he is absolutely the best character for this request! I had so much fun writing this!

Go fish

The relationship you had with Charlie was an odd one to anyone who wasn’t you or him. To an outsider’s eyes it might seem like you weren’t even dating. You were never sitting in each other’s laps, giving kisses, cuddling in public. Not that it mattered; how you wanted your relationship with Charlie to be was none of other people’s business.

That didn’t mean there was no affection whatsoever. You simply preferred to keep the intimacy private. You didn’t want it to be the world’s issue. This was yours and yours alone. The kisses, hugs, whispered words; they were all kept in the private safety of you and Charlie.

Mainly because of this, your relationship with Charlie was unknown to a lot. Even to those close to you; your family thought Charlie was just a good friend, as did his. That didn’t stop them from gossiping about the supposed feeling you had for each other however. The gossips didn’t fail to reach you and Charlie, but you paid little attention to them, mostly because it was a chaos you didn’t want to be involved in.

An end was put to the gossiping, however, when you were visiting the Burrow with Charlie for Christmas.

His family had invited you to spend Christmas day there and such a great invitation you could not decline. So on Christmas morning you were sitting in the kitchen of the Burrow with the rest of the family, enjoying Molly’s famous brunch. The sphere in the kitchen was great and you had lots of fun catching up with the people you hadn’t seen in a while.

You didn’t miss the looks that were pointed you and Charlie’s way. It was obvious that you sitting next to Charlie was not a coincidence. Throughout the whole breakfast, Molly giggled whenever she saw you were talking with or smiling at Charlie. Fred and George, who were sitting on either sides of you, kept pushing you closer together and even Arthur could not help but smile as he saw Charlie putting his arm on the back of your chair.

However, none of them said a word about what they were trying to accomplish so you didn’t act on it. And neither did Charlie. You both went your normal ways, whether this was together then or alone the next moment.

After the brunch everyone but Molly, who stayed home to prepare for tea already, went outside. The past weeks it had been snowing and with the Burrow on the top of the hill, the scenery around the house was the perfect place for sleighing.

You were—courtesy of Fred and George—put on a sleigh with Charlie. On the top of the hill you sat down on the wooden sleigh and he sat down behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

‘Ready?’ he asked and you felt his hot breath against the part of your skin that wasn’t covered by a scarf.

‘As I’ll ever be,’ you nodded and pushed off the sleigh.

Laughing and yelling filled the empty field as the sleigh raced down the hill. Charlie tightened his grip around your waist as you attempted to keep the sleigh going straight ahead by holding two cords attached to the front.

His laugh sounded clear and loud in your ear and, although it was freezing outside, you felt your cheeks heat up at the sound. Charlie’s laugh was so innocent and pure, you could listen to it forever. The sound never failed to cheer you up, no matter how down in the dump you were.

At the area where the ground got more flat, you put your heels in the snow to slow down. The sleigh began to sway and as the bushes were getting closer, you made a final attempt to turn the thing around. You pulled on one of the cords with all your power and the sleigh made a sharp turn, throwing you and Charlie off.

You rolled on the snow and landed on your back, while Charlie ended up face down in the snow. He jumped up quickly and ran over to you to help you, as you were having difficulty to get up because you were laughing so much. He took your hand and pulled you on your feet.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked worried, while he brushed your hair out of your face.

‘I’m fine, love,’ you said, the last chuckles escaping your mouth as you wiped the snow from Charlie’s forehead.

Charlie pressed a quick kiss to your lips and held your hand as he took the sleigh with the other. ‘Come on, let’s do it again.’

You walked with Charlie up the hill again, joining the others. He gave you a little squeeze as he caught the stare of Fred and you grinned as you followed his gaze. You wondered how long it would take for the Weasleys to realise that you had been dating Charlie for months already.

You stayed outside until it really got too cold to do anything. Your fingers were numb from the cold and they welcomed Molly’s hot chocolate gratefully. In the living room, you spent the afternoon playing games with the Weasley siblings.

Charlie was sitting behind you as you played a very intense game of Go Fish with the twins and Ginny. He was looking at your cards over your shoulder and offering you advice whenever it was your turn.

‘Fred, gimme all your fives,’ George said and reluctantly Fred gave him the three fives he had in his hand. You laughed loudly at the face the twin made as he had to hand over his cards but you soon lost your laugh as George asked for the three twos in your hand. George gave you a smirk and his eyes flickered to behind you before he turned back to his cards.

You turned around quickly and quickly knew what was going on when you saw Charlie’s guilty face. ‘Charlie!’ you cried. ‘Did you tell him what cards I have?’

Charlie said nothing, but the little smirk on his face was enough of an answer for you. Your jaw dropped and you hit Charlie on his arm. ‘Nice boyfriend you are,’ you said decidedly and Charlie’s smirk turned into a pout. ‘You’re sleeping on the couch tonight!’

You turned back around and were met with three baffled faces. A low chuckle came from your throat and Charlie put his hands in your waist, squeezing a little too hard.

‘You’re dating?’ George asked.

‘Well, we have been for the past five months,’ Charlie said, releasing the grip on your waist and instead sitting closer to you and wrapping his arms around it. He rested his chin on your shoulder and smirked at his siblings. ‘But thanks for noticing.’

‘No you can’t be dating,’ Ginny said, lowering her cards. ‘We would have known.’

‘Apparently you didn’t,’ you shrugged. ‘Now come on, let’s play. I need to win from George.’

‘No, wait,’ Fred interrupted. ‘Did mum and dad- MOM!’

Charlie sighed and he let go of you, taking place beside you rather than behind. He leaned forward a little bit and turned his head slightly to read George’s card, who was looking at the doorway for his mother. Charlie sat back and mouthed a number to you.

‘Mom!’ George said when Molly walked into the living room. ‘Did you know they were dating?’

Molly gave her son a soft smile and she nodded. ‘Of course I did. It’s hard to hide such a thing,’ she said and you smiled gratefully at her.

‘See? Guess you’re just oblivious,’ you said, when Molly went back to the other room and George and Fred turned back around. ‘Now give me your threes, so I can win.’

Hi my darling Holly!! Ooh I've been so excited to request a headcanon 😅 can I please request an HC with Charlie Weasley with his bestie who is short in height and shy and she gets so flustered and hot and bothered by him and he loves getting her all flustered and thinks she's so cute - maybe they end up admitting feelings? Idk is that too long or specific? Let me know if it is!!

I love you so so much Holly! 🥰💖😘

- @teawiththeweasleys

Ahh this is so cute Ellie!! Of course you can request it! 😂💗💗

Being Charlie Weasley’s Short Best Friend

-okay so he DEFINITELY would joke around about you being short

-like just constant teasing

-but it’s all done in love

-he watch you struggle trying to reach something on one of the top shelves in classes (especially potions) before making a smart comment

-“I think if you try jumping again you’ll get it this time, love”

-to which you’d always give it back to him but you’d get all blushy and flustered and annoyed

-“if I had a kinder best friend I wouldn’t have to struggle so much now would I?”

-has definitey rested his arm on your head/shoulder before and called you a good armrest

-which you 100% get angry over but he finds it completey adorable

-LOVES flustering you by either lifting you up to reach whatever you need OR by reaching over you so you’re closed in and he’s super close to you and all you can smell is his cologne

-will actually melt inside when he steps back and watches you blush and not be able to say anything coherent

-will honestly probably blush himself but you never notice because you can barely look at him for a good 5-10 minutes afterwards

-really likes when you wear low cut tops/dresses and stand in front of or beside him

-because like he can just look down

-he always feels so bad when he does it but he also just really loves your chest so he never really stops

-of course you never notice bc you don’t have the same vantage point

-but you do notice how easily flustered and fidgety he gets when you wear them

-your height is definitey one of the things he’s fallen in love with

-aside from just falling in love with you

-he just really loves how well you fit into his side when walking or cuddling

-he loves how when you hug him your face is always pressed right into his chest and how you never seem to mind but instead sigh in content

-he actually does really like when you wear heels

-bc 1) you’re still shorter than him and he enjoys reading you about it

-& 2) he loves how bloody attractive you are in them

-everyone else knows just how much the two of you like each other but neither of you ever make a move

-until one day Charlie decides he can’t keep going on just being best friends with you

-he needs to tell you that he can’t imagine being with anyone else and that there’s no other short person he’d rather tease than you

-when he tells you this he’ll probably do something dumb like kneel on the ground while you sit or stand in front of him

-and he’d make a comment like “I figured that you should be able to be the taller person at least once in your life, and what better time than when I’m confessing my feelings that tower over you as well”

-you’d obviously punch his arm as he laughs and you blush and roll your eyes

-and a bit sappy but you’d make a comment like “I may be small, but feelings for you aren’t.”

-& then you’d tell him that you like him too!!

-and ugh happy ending!!

800 followers game night!!

Baby Blues

Charlie Weasley x Reader 

Aww thank you! I’m so glad you like my writing! I hope you like enjoy this oneshot as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you for the cute request! 

Romance Prompt #14: “Holy shit, I love you.”

Romance Prompt #23: “You look cute with a baby bump!” 

Genre: Fluff 

Content Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,191

Seguir leyendo

— micaela's april recs

ty to all these amazing writers who have left me with butterflies in my stomach and/or tears rolling down my face, much appreciated <3

CRIMINAL MINDS

— spencer reid.

soulmates by @radiant-reid

tear me apart by @literaila

private display of affection by @poguesofthebau

that's my wife by @wheelsup

unlucky in love by @criminalmindzjunkie

sinking by @mggpleasedontlookhere

PANIC

— dodge mason.

cemetery drive by @riffaist

love story by @biqherosix

↳ steal my girl

HARRY POTTER

— fred weasley.

john wayne by @shadowsinger11

chosen sister by @potter-imagines

how to steal a book (and a heart) by @theweasleysredhair

late night stroll by @httpbakugou

sheer luck by @heloisedaphnebrightmore

frustrations by @nextdoor-neighbors

— george weasley.

broken people by @wondernimbus

— draco malfoy.

two sworn enemies by @wondernimbus

odd one out by @panda-noosh

— oliver wood.

c'est magnifique by @wondernimbus

— charlie weasley.

a brief glimpse by @helnjk

MARAUDERS

— remus lupin.

singed memories by @lupinlongbottom

just go with it by @fizzyhosh

— sirius black.

just a natural fact by @iliveiloveiwrite

agree to disagree by @lupinlongbottom

LOCKWOOD AND CO.

— anthony lockwood.

you can hear it in the silence by @tangledinlove

↳ it's never too late (to come back to my side)

↳ just another love song

STRANGER THINGS

— steve harrington.

got caught up by @hairringtonsteve

HEROES OF OLYMPUS

— leo valdez.

why me? by @chasingpj

MARVEL

— bucky barnes.

first date, last night by @intrepidacious

AVATAR: THE LAST AIRBENDER

— zuko.

best kind of medicine by @panda-noosh

↳ fools gold

BRIDGERTON

— anthony bridgerton.

sham and pain by @peeterparkr

GRISHAVERSE

— kaz brekker.

heartless by @magpiencrow

↳ for you

GRYFFINDOR BOYS

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works

FRED WEASLEY

mad woman

cupid crystals

a special friend

recovering a life

deep breath

strawberry letters

date after date

SIRIUS BLACK

complimentary quills

just a natural fact

brighten your days

black dog neighbour

padfoot

HARRY POTTER

harry potter and the long-lost beach episode

harry potter and the late-night company

potter love

gifts

green-eyed idiot

romancing professor potter

CHARLIE WEASLEY

creative writing class

favourites

taming the dragon tamer

lucky charm

let's pretend

GEORGE WEASLEY

heart-to-heart chase

beating a weasley

well-meaning deceit

see you again

it's definitely you

coming home

Serie Charlie Weasley

Navigation ⋅ Main Masterlist

Copying, adapting, and plagiarism, whether in person or digitally, is totally prohibited. Please do not translate and use it as your own work.

Amelea Barnes

Prologue

Life Before

⠀⠀⠀→ 0 The strange girl and the letter

⠀⠀⠀→ 0.1 Diagon Alley

⠀⠀⠀→ 0.2 Platform Nine and Three Quarters

⠀⠀⠀→ 0.3 Sorting Hat

First Year 

⠀⠀⠀→ 1 Year 1

Second Year

⠀⠀⠀→ 2

Third Year

⠀⠀⠀→ 3

Fourth Year

⠀⠀⠀→ 4

Fifth Year

⠀⠀⠀→ 5

Sixth Year

⠀⠀⠀→ 6

Seventh Year

⠀⠀⠀→ 7

Navigation ⋅ Main Masterlist

Copying, adapting, and plagiarism, whether in person or digitally, is totally prohibited. Please do not translate and use it as your own work.

Amelea Barnes

Age: 13 yrs

Birthday: March 14th, 1978

House: Slytherin

Blood Status: Unknown for now

Personality: Becomes quite protective of those she loves, especially if they’re younger than her.

Physical: Shoulder-length pale brown hair, tanned skin, 1.60cm, Eyes with Heterochromia, one eye green and the other blue.

Fear: Snakes

Motivation: Being able to become a doctor

Prologue

Navigation ⋅ Main Masterlist

Word Count: 281

Copying, adapting, and plagiarism, whether in person or digitally, is totally prohibited. Please do not translate and use it as your own work.

Amelea Barnes has always had a lot of problems with her family, leading her to have a lot of problems with herself. Those same problems made her parents leave her in the hands of her terrible grandmother Isabela. One day she received a strange letter, which told her that she had been accepted as a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, from that day her life has changed. Despite not understanding very well the concept of everything, she would give her all to make her teacher proud. There she would learn many incantations and various tricks. Even though she was a somewhat closed girl, she would make many friends, including a pair of red-haired twins.

Two years later, the famous Harry Potter, the boy who survived the terrible attack on his family, would enter the school. Amelea will not only meet new friends, but also secrets from her past that have been kept from her. A strange feeling has grown in her to want to protect her friends. Many challenges have arisen, the arrival of strange creatures and the return of the Dark Lord. A new family became present in her life thanks to the conviction of her friends. They will protect each other until the end of their days. They not only gave her a chance to be part of the family, but also to find the love of her life among them.

A big, dark secret is hidden by the ministry and the school board. Will Amelea be able to know the big secret about her that they have been keeping from her? Will she and her friends be able to survive the future that awaits them?

0. The strange girl and the letter

Navigation ⋅ Main Masterlist

Warning: Fights, yelling, family problems, poor treatment, abandonment.

Word Count: 2.1k+

Copying, adapting, and plagiarism, whether in person or digitally, is totally prohibited. Please do not translate and use it as your own work.

May 3, 1983

Mr. and Mrs. Barnes lived a normal life at 6 Magnolia Crescent, where outside the house they made believe they were a perfect family but inside the four walls they were demons.

Mr. Barnes was a doctor at the nearest hospital. A tall freckled man with dark hair resembling the color black. Mrs. Barnes was a housewife. A woman of short stature, red hair resembling fire, skin as white as paper and lips the same color as her hair, which made anyone who turned to look at her notice her lips. The Barnes had me, Amelea Barnes, they always made it clear to me what a terrible decision they made, which was to have me. They always compared me to the other children, telling me that I should be just as normal as they were. They said that because of my eyes, making me feel insecure about myself when I was 5 years old.

That is how at the age of 5 I was left in the hands of my paternal grandmother Isabela Barnes and nothing got better, or rather, worse. For years I suffered mistreatment from her, every day I heard the same phrase "you are good for nothing". During the years with her, my voice was muffled, I felt alone, no one understood me. I had no social life, I had no friends, everyone kept me away from the outside world as if they wanted to hide me from something, I didn't understand and I don't think I would ever understand it.

March 14, 1988

Today was my 10th birthday, I was still living with my grandmother Isabela and nothing has improved, the mistreatment continued and my spirits were disappearing more and more. I could see the window from my bed and the sky was not pretty at all, it was full of clouds, but it didn't look like a threat of rain. In a matter of seconds the day got worse just by hearing his voice.

— Come on, get up, you have to make breakfast! — Isabella shouted as she knocked furiously on the door.

That made me snort angrily.

— I said, get up!

— I'm coming, I'm coming! — I mumbled as I pulled the covers off my body, brushed my teeth in the bathroom before heading downstairs to the kitchen, watching as Grandma Isabela calmly read the newspaper. I rolled my eyes walking to the fridge to take out the eggs and bacon so I could fry them in a pan. My grandmother was a chubby woman with a large amount of dark hair covering her head and short neck. I placed the plates full of cooked eggs and bacon on the table and left again to toast the bread.

— Don't forget the peanut butter. — Grandma Isabela said without looking up from that boring newspaper.

I snorted again as I had done minutes ago in my room.

— What did you say? — she said raising her voice.

— Nothing...

I took the toasted breads to the table and looked for that peanut butter for grandma Isabela, I didn't feel like fighting with her today and even more knowing that she didn't remember my birthday, I don't think she has ever congratulated me nor anyone has ever celebrated it.

We ate in silence, I never looked up from my plate trying to eat as fast as possible so I could go back to my room to read one of my many books.

— Clean the dishes, I want everything as it was. — Grandma Isabela said as she got up from her chair with her newspaper in hand leaving her dirty dishes and the peanut butter container open. She walked through the narrow kitchen door leaving me at the table with half my plate still full. I threw the food in the trash can and began to clean up with no emotion on my face. I put the container back in the cupboard from which I had taken it and quickly walked back to my room.

My birthday was an ordinary day, nothing exciting, like every year after I started living with my grandmother Isabela, if my birthday fell on a weekday, I could miss that day of school, but I would rather be at school than in this hell under grandma's roof. She had the luxury of being present every moment to make everything worse, when I find friends, she has the task of taking them away from me, as if I were a flea dog, making me live alone, without any joy.

I would stand by my bedroom window with a book in hand after taking a shower. These were the best times where there was peace and quiet, no screaming, just me and my book. The day I once said it looked like it would not rain, it made a change of plans and it showed when from the sky there was a large light and then it made the roar of thunder causing me to startle and leave my book next to me.

I took my gaze to the courtyard, where the poor flowers that my grandmother Isabela "took care of" were, which I really took care of. In the distance I could see a small figure that I couldn't decipher, could it be a bird? No, it looks too big to be a bird. A dog? It could be, but I couldn't see the similarity. A cat? Possibly, but when I got ready to take a closer look at it, the rain began to fall harder, making that little figure run away.

Night fell and it was time for dinner, after breakfast I hadn't eaten, as grandma Isabela wouldn't allow me to, because I was a bad girl. I was in the kitchen already making dinner when grandma Isabela came through that narrow door, the floor was rumbling letting me know she was angry.

— Can you tell me what this is? — Grandma Isabela said in a loud tone as she threw a letter on the dining room table. I left some potatoes boiling and walked over to the table and frowned at the letter.

— The bill is expensive again, don't you have any consideration! — I could feel Grandma Isabela's saliva on my face when she started yelling at me in an aggressive manner.

— You don't allow me to use the light and you only allow me to bathe once a day, maybe you are the one who is overspending. — I tried to sound as calm as possible so I wouldn't get any more scolding, but that only made her even angrier.

— You know what? You've already overflowed the glass, I've had to put up with you for 4 years-

— 5 years. — I whispered.

— For 5 years and you've only been able to complain, I've given you everything, a roof to sleep under, food, water, studies, you're just a spoiled brat, a good-for-nothing. That's why your parents don't love you and left you!

I knew that none of that was real, I have never complained, yes I have a roof to sleep under, but food is limited to me and water too. I haven't heard from my parents since the day they left me with my chubby witch of a grandmother. Despite my parents' treatment, I would rather be with them than, with grandma, I never knew what I did wrong as to make them leave me completely. A sentence brought me out of my thoughts.

— You're leaving the house tonight, I can't stand you anymore, I don't care where you have to live, but I don't want you on my roof, get all your things out and before 10 o'clock, I want you out! — she screamed as she took the bill from the table again and headed to the door.

— You can't leave me like this grandma Isabela, I have nowhere to go. — I said in panic, again they wanted to take me out of the house, I couldn't stand another abandonment.

— I don't care, get out, I don't want to see your stupid face again, get lost from my sight! — With that he walked out of the kitchen leaving me with nerves and lots of boiling potatoes. I heard a door slam shut letting me know she had left the house. I ran out to my room leaving those potatoes on the fire, I didn't care about them anymore, I wasn't even hungry after that little argument. I looked around the house for suitcases so I could put my few clothes and books in them. Having two suitcases in hand, from the door I looked into the empty room.

I opened the front door and walked out of the house still listening to the water boiling the potatoes, nothing mattered to me anymore, I had dried tears on my cheeks and in my eyes there was no feeling. I just dragged my suitcases with me in search of some shelter while I recovered from everything that had happened.

March 14, 1989

It was my birthday again, exactly one year ago my grandmother Isabela had literally thrown me out of the house. Her voice and her words still echoed in my head. I found myself living in an alley, close to where I had lived, under some pieces of wood covering me from the hot sun, the rain and the night.

I had gone out a few minutes ago to the street in front of the alley in search of some food that I could find. Out of nowhere, or so I thought, an owl arrived with a letter in its beak, but what was an owl doing in the middle of the city? It left the letter in my hand before flying off back the way it had come.

Miss A. Barnes Alley 6 Magnolia Crescent Little Whinging Surrey

How did they know where I lived? That was very strange. The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald green ink. It had no stamp.

I turned it over so I could open it and noticed a purple wax seal with a coat of arms: a lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake, surrounding a large letter H. I opened the letter carefully so as not to damage it and took out the letter so I could read it:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF MAGIC Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Head Wizard, Supreme Head, International International Confederation of Wizards).

Dear Ms. Barnes

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Magic. Please notice the list of required equipment and books.

Classes begin on September 1. We are waiting for your owl before July 31st.

Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall Deputy Headmistress

My owl? What owl? I don't have an owl. Besides, there's no such thing as Magic School, and where is Hogwarts? I had never heard of a school by that name. My head was full of questions. Out of the corner of my eye I could see a small figure pass by me, I quickly looked up and saw a very beautiful tabby cat, it had an elegant demeanor. I approached him and when I was about to touch his head he ran off into the alley.

— Wait, don't go, my friend!

I went after him, forgetting the food I had picked up and still holding the letter in my hands. Instead of meeting that cat, I met a lady, who was wearing square glasses, her hair was in a bun.

— How did you get in here? — I said as I tried to look for that cat with my eyes.

— That cat would be me, my dear. — said that woman without any expression on her face.

— But you can't be a cat if you are human. — I answered confused.

— That doesn't matter, you got the letter, I see. — She said as she looked at my hands which were holding the letter.

— I think you are wrong, there is no Hogwarts School, and there is no such thing as magic. — I looked over the letter again.

— There is, my dear, and you are one of the many chosen to study there.

— Chosen?

— You are a witch, Miss Barnes.

— Me? A witch? You must be mistaken. — I said with a frown as I shook my head. - I can't be a witch, I'm just an ordinary girl.

— You're much more than that, and you'll notice it soon enough.

My head had even more questions than when I was reading the letter. My mind did not know how to understand the information that the lady in front of me was telling me.

— My name is Professor McGonagall and I will be your guide during this time until you enter school.

Tags: @imma-too-many-fandoms

0.1 Diagon Alley

Navigation ⋅ Main Masterlist

Warning: None :)

Word Count: 1.6k+

Copying, adapting, and plagiarism, whether in person or digitally, is totally prohibited. Please do not translate and use it as your own work.

July 28, 1989

Two months have passed since that crazy day in the alley. I learned that Professor McGonagall taught Transformations and was an animagus so she could shapeshift into a tabby cat. She, or rather Dumbledore, who was the headmaster of the school, put me up in a room, where I could eat whatever I wanted and bathe.

— Do you have the list of what you need? — asked the teacher as we walked towards a sealed brick wall.

— Yes, I have it here. — I took the paper out of my pocket to show her. — But wherever we're supposed to go, this wall is clearly sealed.

— Take a step back, Barnes. — He tapped three times on one of the bricks, three up and two horizontally. The brick he had hit moved strangely and from the middle of that brick wall a rather large hole appeared.

— How... did you do this? — my eyes were the size of soup plates.

— Magic, my dear. — she stepped through the hole into a large street full of stores, cauldrons and people shopping.

— Welcome to Diagon Alley.

Diagon Alley? What a peculiar name. I followed the teacher's lead as I swung my head around trying to see every store. Spiders? They really are wizards if they fly on brooms. I had only heard of them from stories, they said they were bad people. Around me I could see several people my own age, maybe they were also new to this world. I was just hoping to meet someone who was just like me.

— Open the list, we have to start shopping. — said the teacher pulling me out of my thoughts, I unfolded the sheet and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF MAGIC

UNIFORM First year students will need:

-Three plain working robes (black). -One pointed hat (black) for everyday wear. -One pair of protective gloves (dragon skin or similar). -One winter cloak (black, with silver clasps).

(All student clothing must have name tags on it).

BOOKS All students must have a copy of the following books:

-The Statutory Book of Spells (Class 1), Miranda Goshawk. -A History of Magic, Bathilda Bagshot. -Magical Theory, Adalbert Waffling. -A beginner's guide to transformation, Emeric Switch. -A Thousand Magical Herbs and Mushrooms, Phyllida Spore. -Filters and magic potions, Arsenius Jigger. -Fantastic Animals and Where to Find Them, Newt Scamander. -The Dark Forces. A guide to self-protection, Quentin Trimble.

REST OF THE EQUIPMENT

1 wand. 1 cauldron (pewter, size 2). 1 set of glass or crystal phials. 1 telescope. 1 set of brass scales.

Students may also bring an owl, cat or toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST GRADERS ARE NOT ALLOWED TO HAVE BROOMS OF THEIR OWN.

— Come on, there is a lot of shopping to do.

We were on our way to where I would buy my uniform, we already had almost everything, only my uniform, my wand and my mascot were missing. In a cart we carried the books, the scales, the cauldron, the sets of glass beads and the telescope. We entered Madame Mulkin's store, the sound of a bell announced our arrival, and a smiling and plump witch dressed in mauve welcomed us.

— Hogwarts? — she said as she looked at the teacher. — Nice to have you here. - the teacher nodded her head.

Madame Mulkin motioned for me to follow her and I didn't move until the teacher gave me a gentle push.

— Go, my dear, it will be quick. — I nodded before following Madame Mulkin to a footstool, which she made me climb onto. She slipped a robe over my head and began to measure and mark the appropriate length.

Again I heard the bell on the door letting us know that someone else had arrived.

— I'll get you your uniform as quickly as possible, beautiful. — she said and then approached those who had arrived. — Ah the Weasleys, nice to have you here again.

With some trepidation I turned and saw a family, they had red hair, they looked like carrots. Two boys who looked like twins passed by where I was, both on a footstool, waiting for Madame Mulkin to finish with my uniform. I think I was staring at them for a while because I saw a hand move in front of my face.

— Are you all right? — one of them said. — Do we have something on our faces? — replied the other.

I shook my head apologetically under my breath.

— It's all ready, beautiful.

Without further ado I thanked him and got down from the stool with some haste, I saw how the teacher was talking to the red-haired lady and I approached her with some embarrassment.

— Can we go? — I said once I was next to Professor McGonagall. She said goodbye to the lady and then we left the store.

Our next stop was the wand shop. The store looked cramped and shabby, and above the door we could read in golden letters "Ollivander: maker of excellent wands since 382 B.C.". Already entering the store a bell could be heard ringing just like in Madame Mulkin's store. It looked like a library, but they were not books, they were thousands of narrow boxes, carefully stacked up to the ceiling.

— Good afternoon — said a gentleman with a kind voice.

I startled at the sound of the voice and the creaking of the floor. I looked at the teacher, but she was still with her emotionless face.

A gentleman with big pale eyes, they were very beautiful, they reminded me of the full moon. I gave him a small smile as I waited for him to continue talking.

— Ah, yes — said the man as he arranged a small mountain of narrow boxes. — Amelea... — the man looked behind me to where the teacher was and with a small smile returned his gaze to me. — Amelea Barnes. Nice to meet you. — I could see in his expression how he wanted to speak, but he refused to say it.

— Come on Ollivander, we need to make one more stop, this is no time for small talk. — Professor McGonagall said in her dry voice.

Mr. Ollivander cast a thoughtful glance. — Well, now, Amelea... Let me see. — From his pocket he took out a tape measure. With which arm do you hold the wand?

I've never had a wand, how would I know that? I decided to go by the hand with which I write and raised my left hand.

— With my left hand, sir... — I replied.

— Extend your arm, Amelea. — He measured from my shoulder to my finger, then from my wrist to my elbow, from my shoulder to the ground, from my knee to my armpit and around my head. It was all so fast. As he was mediating he was saying to me:

— Every Ollivander wand has a central core of a powerful magical substance. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feather and dragon heart nerves. No two Ollivander wands are alike, just as no two unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are alike. And, of course, you will never get as good results with another wizard's wand.

As I was processing the information he had just given me I hadn't noticed that he was no longer standing next to me, but checking among the shelves, pulling out boxes, which I assumed that inside these narrow boxes were the wands. He opened a box and pulled out a wand.

— Okay, Amelea, try this one. Ebony wood and unicorn hair, twenty-one and a half centimeters. Springy. Go on, try it, wave it.

I took the wand with my left hand, I observed the details of it before waving it around. Seeing the failed attempt, he took the wand away from me and put it back in its box to keep looking for more.

— No... Yew wood with a phoenix soul, twenty-eight centimeters, inflexible flexibility. An unusual combination.

He handed me the wand and the second I held it in my hand a warmth came to my fingers. I waved the wand in the air and some green lights appeared and hit the wall.

— Bravo, it's the right one... Well, well, well, it's quite curious...

I took the wand from my hand and put it back in its box and then wrapped it in wrapping paper while still mumbling: "Curious... quite curious".

— Excuse me, but... what's so curious, sir? — I said in a soft tone as I watched him wrap the box.

He looked up and locked his gaze with mine.

— I remember every wand I've ever sold, Miss Barnes. Every single wand. It turns out that your wand is quite powerful, but quite damaging if it falls into the wrong hands. Yew wands are the rarest to see, whoever possesses it are likewise unusual. It has the great reputation of giving its wielder the great power of life and death. — Before he could continue speaking, the teacher interrupted him.

— That's all, Ollivander, you've said too much, look how the poor girl has turned out. — she mentioned at my still and confused state. — Thank you very much. — said the teacher as she handed him the coins.

We left the place and headed towards the pet store.

— Don't pay too much attention to him, dear, she just likes to talk too much.

I nodded at her words, I tried to get his words out of my mind, but the last sentence still echoed, "They have the great reputation of giving their possessor the great power of life and death". What did he mean by that?

We arrived at a shop, Owl Emporium.

— Wait for me here, I'll go buy your owl. — She disappeared into the store. I leaned back on the cart carrying my things, waiting for her to return.

A few minutes later, the teacher came out with a cage in her hands, a small brown owl with white dots, its eyes were open yellow.

— His name is Howard, take him as a birthday present. Come on, you have everything, you must rest after this day.

Tags: imma-too-many-fandoms

Hi hi

Hi, I'm here to tell you that I have a Wattpad account, where I'll be posting the Amelea series I'm writing. There on Wattpad I'm writing it in Spanish. Maybe in the future I can post the English version over there too, but I was wondering how well this story would do over here. If you like you can check it out and support me there as well as here.

Amelea Barnes and the Philosopher’s Stone

0.2 Platform Nine and Three Quarters

Navigation ⋅ Main Masterlist

Warning: None :)

Word Count: 1.6k+

Copying, adapting, and plagiarism, whether in person or digitally, is totally prohibited. Please do not translate and use it as your own work.

September 1, 1989

The month of August passed quickly before my eyes, I was perusing the books I had bought with Professor McGonagall in search of some answer about the Yew wood, but I could not find anything.

The day came to go to the train to go to school. I put on my clothes and put all my things in their corresponding places, I didn't have many things, but after buying the books, the cauldron, the balance, the set of redomas and the telescope, I had very little space. I went by cab to the train station, it was a somewhat uncomfortable way, the man kept looking at me as if I was crazy. "People are really crazy, an owl? Are you serious? I had to ignore him all the way, my ears were hot, I was sure they were red with embarrassment.

Once in King Cross I looked for the platform that was written on my ticket, 9 ¾, but I only found the number 9 and 10.

I didn't dare to ask anyone, I just stopped in the middle of the corridor trying to collect my thoughts. I turned to see them and they were the same redheads I had seen in that Madame Mulkin's Uniform store, only there were two more of them. They were each pushing a trunk and carrying an owl.

— Well, my dears, this is the stop. — Said the same plump lady I had seen in the store as the two redheads who looked like the eldest sons ran and disappeared into the wall. My eyes widened at what I had seen. But how had they done it?

When all the sons had entered, I approached the lady.

— Excuse me — I said in a friendly tone.

— Oh, hello, my dear, I didn't see you here. You look like someone, though, oh well. — she said examining my face. — First year at Hogwarts, right? Fred and George are new too.

— Sort of, I don't know anything about this world and?

— You don't know how to get on the platform? Don't worry about it. — said the lady with a smile on her face. — You just have to walk straight to the barrier. — She pointed between the two platforms — Don't be afraid, it's best to go quickly if you are nervous. Go now, before me.

With a nervous smile I positioned myself in front of the platform and pushed my cart and started running towards the barrier. It felt strange. When I got there I could see the steam train, scarlet in color, and next to where it had come from was the sign that read: "Platform Nine and Three Quarters".

Everything was real, real people, there were too many kids, many were saying goodbye to their parents, others were already boarding the train. I went to one of the compartments that was empty, I took the lightweight first, which would be my Howard owl and tried to take my trunk up, but it was quite heavy.

— Do you want help with that? — I followed the voice and met one of the red-haired boys from the store and with embarrassment I just nodded.

— It would be very helpful. — I wiped my forehead with my arm.

— George, come help me!

Thanks to the redheads, my trunk was next to the compartment I would be staying in.

— Thank you very much. — I said sitting down on the seat.

— It's nothing, I'm Fred and this is my brother George. — said one of the twins, we shook hands. – Or maybe it's the other way around — replied the other twin. I stared at both of them and then sounded my throat while touching the back of my neck.

— Uh, well, my name is Amelea, Amelea Barnes, nice to meet you.

I heard a voice through the open compartment door.

— We're coming, Mom.

I looked at them one last time before they left the compartment.

— Please behave yourselves, I don't want a complaint from either of you. I charge you Charlie, you're the oldest.

— Of course I am, Mom, don't worry, I'll keep my eyes open. — said another boy with reddish hair as he ruffled the twins' hair.

— Where is Percy? — asked their mother.

— I'm here, I was chatting with some students about one of the classes.

— Well, have a good year, send me an owl when you get there.

There was a whistle.

— Hurry up and get in. I love you. — She kissed each of the children and they boarded the train to their compartments.

The train began to move, the train itself turned and houses could be seen in the distance and passed by with great speed. I didn't know what was going on, but I wasn't complaining, it felt exciting to be here.

At half past twelve we could already see big fields full of cows and sheep. They looked adorable. I heard a big commotion in the aisle of the train, and a woman with a friendly face looked out and said to me — Would you like something from the cart, dear?

I almost shook my head, but I had remembered that Professor McGonagall had handed me some coins. I shyly got up and bought some sweets to entertain me during the trip.

Minutes later the door to my compartment opened revealing the same boys who had helped me earlier.

— How are you?

I could tell they completed their sentences often. I rolled my shoulders, playing it down.

— I'm fine, a little nervous? — I said in a low tone, a little uncomfortable with the attention.

— Don't worry, this should be an exciting year.

— Full of mischief. — said who I thought was Fred. — Oh those are chocolate frogs. — he said as he removed the container from my side, where I had the few candies I had bought. He unwrapped it and pulled out a card.

— Ah, I got Dumbledore. — He handed me the card and I saw him move and wave at me. - What the hell? Why is he moving?

— You don't know? — I shook my head.

— I don't know anything, I just got a card one day and here I am, doing something crazy. — I sighed turning the card over and read:

Albus Dumbledore, currently headmaster of Hogwarts. Considered by almost everyone to be the greatest wizard of the present time, Dumbledore is particularly famous for defeating the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve applications of dragon's blood, and for his work in alchemy with his partner Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore is fond of chamber music and bowling.

— You were never told about magic or you're a Muggle.

— What the heck is a muggle? — I said confused.

—You. You must be the child of non-magical parents.

— Are there more ways to call people names? — I turned the card over and the silver-haired man with the half-moon glasses was gone. — Where did he go?

— He wasn't going to be there all day, was he? — that made me even more confused.

— In addition to muggles or better known as dirty bloods, there are half-bloods, who have wizards in their family. If you have at least one magical parent usually the child would also come out with magic, and there are the purebloods.

— The ones who are one hundred percent wizarding? — I interrupted the twin.

-Exactly, you're learning fast.

— How come, if you're a Muggle, you're a witch?

— I don't know either, I still think they're wrong, but Professor McGonagall says otherwise. — I looked at the window, the sky was getting darker and darker.

— Professor McGonagall? did she look for you personally?

— Something like that, why, is it bad? — I turned my gaze to one of the twins, who a while ago was stealing my candy.

— Not necessarily. We'd better change into our uniforms, we'll be there soon. — They left the compartment, because during these months people have taken the task of confusing me more and more?

The train stopped after about five minutes, I waited for some of them to get out so I wouldn't be crushed when I wanted to get out. A peculiar voice shouted above the wave of students:

— First year! First years over here!

A tall man with a hairy face called out, I headed towards him, staying a little behind everyone.

— Come, follow me, watch your step!

We all followed the man, I was amazed to see how tall he was, I had never met anyone that tall before.

Carefully we followed the man through a narrow path, everything was very dark, I felt that I would fall if I made a wrong step, there was not much silence, in the back there were still people talking, but for my part, it was silent.

— In a few seconds you will have your first glimpse of Hogwarts — exclaimed the tall man. — Right... here!

I opened my eyes as I saw the big castle, it looked spooky as it was dark, I could see a big lake and a big mountain.

— Come on! No more than four in a boat. — the man pointed to a fleet of small boats lined up on the water, next to the shore.

I got into one of them with three other people, and when we were all in one boat, they all started to move at the same time, it was a quiet lake. Now they were all silent, contemplating the surroundings.

We got out of the boats and climbed over some rocks and pebbles until we finally reached the soft, wet grass, in the shadow of the castle. We approached a large gate and the tall man with his giant fist knocked three times.

0.3 Sorting Hat

Navigation ⋅ Main Masterlist

Warning: None :)

Word Count: 3.1k+

Copying, adapting, plagiarism, whether in person or digitally, is totally prohibited. Please do not translate and use it as your own work.

September 1, 1989

The door opens after being knocked three times and Professor McGonagall, who had helped me, was waiting there, her face emotionless.

— Here are the first years, Professor McGonagall — said the tall man.

Hagrid, why do they all have such peculiar and strange names?

— Thank you very much, Hagrid. I'll take them from here — said Professor McGonagall as she opened the door wide.

I was surprised to see how large the entrance hall was. Torches adorned the high stone walls, so high that the ceiling could not be seen.

We followed Professor McGonagall to a small room outside the foyer after following a path marked on the stone floor. We gathered there, there were so many of us that we were closer than usual.

— Welcome to Hogwarts everyone, I see some familiar faces. — Professor McGonagall said as she turned her gaze to me. — Before you take your places in the Great Dining Hall, you must be selected for your houses. Selection is quite an important ceremony because, while you are here, your houses will be like your family at Hogwarts. You will take class with the rest of the house, sleep in your house dormitories and spend your free time in the house common room.

Will it be an exam? I don't know anything about magic, how will I be able to answer it to be chosen for a house? Nervousness entered my body causing me to play with my fingers.

» The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced notable witches and wizards. While at Hogwarts, their triumphs will earn their houses points, while any infraction of the rules will cause them to lose them. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will be awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope you will all be a credit to your house.

— I hope to get into Gryffindor.

— Me too.

I heard whispers behind me with some excitement. Was each house different?

» The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes, in front of the rest of the school. I suggest that, while you wait, you dress up as best you can.

In front of everyone?! I'll be embarrassed in front of everyone, how nice, only to me these things happen. I don't know about magic, I don't know how to do that exam and on top of that in front of everyone?

Professor McGonagall looked around the room, many lowered their heads as they felt intimidated.

— I'll be back when we have everything ready for the ceremony. — said Professor McGonagall. — And please wait quietly.

With that she left the room with her head held high and many whispers followed. My heart was pounding as if I had run a full marathon. I was confused even with this whole magic situation. I looked around me and many were trembling in terror. I could make out from a distance two voices, who were making jokes to reassure many around them. Those twins are very friendly, in the little time I've known them I've found them to be nice guys. My hands were red for sure as I was playing with them because of my nerves, I had never felt as nervous as I did now. I just wanted this to pass as quickly as possible, otherwise I would be left without hands.

— Let's go - said a voice. — The Selection Ceremony is about to begin.

I was so far inside my head that I hadn't heard that Professor McGonagall had come back for us.

— Form a line and follow me to the Great Dining Hall.

I waited until they were forming a line so I could join in later, standing behind a girl with purple hair. We left the room at a moderate pace going back across the hall, in front of us were some big double doors, when we opened them we saw a big room, I guessed it was the Great Dining Room, there were a lot of students and some long tables where they were seated. The place was filled with thousands of candles, I didn't know how to feel when I saw that they were floating in the air over the four tables that were there. On top of those tables there were golden plates, cutlery and glasses, something that surprised me a lot. At the end of the place there was a dais, where there was another big table, perhaps for the teachers.

We kept walking until Professor McGonagall stopped us and made us line up in front of the other students. Silver-colored figures came out of the walls, but were they transparent?

— Are those ghosts? — said a girl behind me, her voice was full of fear.

One of them rose towards the ceiling and I curiously followed him with my eyes, the ceiling looked beautiful, it looked as if the sky itself was here inside the dining room. I lowered my gaze when I heard a stool being placed on the floor, it was Professor McGonagall who had placed it in front of us. On top of that stool she had placed a hat? why should a hat be on a stool? It was a very dirty hat, a bit worn if you could say so. Is that where the exams will come from? I don't even know what to think about anymore, if it was the wands, the ghosts, the ceiling, the flying candles or the wall that moved by itself to open the way to Diagon Alley.

The silence felt uncomfortable, I had never been in a place as quiet as this, not even in my old room, you could always hear the birds singing or my grandmother Isabella screaming for something she hadn't done. My eyes widened as I watched that hat begin to move, but they widened even more when a tear near the brim had opened and that hat began to sing.

Oh, you may think I'm not pretty, but don't judge by what you see. I'll eat myself if you can find A smarter hat than me. You can have black bowler hats, tall, fancy hats. But I'm the Sorting Hat of Hogwarts and I can outsmart them all. There's nothing hidden in your head that the Sorting Hat can't see. So try me and I'll tell you where you belong. You can belong in Gryffindor, where the brave dwell. Your boldness, mettle and chivalry Set those of Gryffindor apart. You can belong to Hufflepuff where they are fair and loyal. Those persevering Hufflepuffs Truly fear no drudgery. Or perhaps to the ancient wisdom of Ravenclaw, If you have a willing mind, For those of intelligence and erudition Will always find their fellows there. Or perhaps in Slytherin You'll make your true friends. Those cunning people will use any means to achieve their ends. So try me! Don't be afraid! And you won't get a slap! You're in good hands (even if I'm not). Because I am the Thinking Hat.

Ah, no wonder they were talking about which house to stay in, they each have their strengths, but how will they choose us? will they read our minds? by personality? If so I think I would be in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor nor cunning enough for Slytherin.

Applause broke out once the hat had finished its song. This one bowed as if he was looking at each of us in the dining hall before standing still again. This was better than an exam, but was it necessary to do it in front of everyone?

Professor McGonagall with a large roll of parchment looked at us.

— When I call your names, you are to put on your hats and sit on the stool for selection. — Aniston, Clark.

A girl with blonde hair in a ponytail came out of the line and walked over to the hat, put it on, covered her eyes, and sat down on the stool.

— RAVENCLAW! — shouted the hat causing me to startle.

The second table to the left applauded with such excitement as Clark went to his table so he could sit with the others from his house.

— Bramson, Dylan!

— HUFFLEPUFF! — shouted the hat this time, causing the table to the right to burst into applause this time, waiting to shake Dylan's hand.

— Brown, Lydia

— HUFFLEPUFF! – the table again erupted in applause, waiting for the new student.

Clinton, Aaron and Cook, Adrian were also chosen for Hufflepuff, the other tables were quiet while the Hufflepuff table was still clapping.

— Derricks, Evan!

— SLYTHERIN! — this time one of the back tables started clapping enthusiastically, he had been the first student named to their table.

— I wouldn't want to be in Slytherin, they're all bad people, they think they're better than everyone else.

I heard someone behind me say, making me turn around, it was a freckled boy with honey-colored eyes.

— Why do you say that? — I asked.

— Haven't you heard about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? — said the boy as he furrowed his eyebrows. I shook my head.

— Wow, you must have lived under a rock, don't you know what happened to the Potter family?

Potter family? What family are you talking about?

— Uh... no? I've never heard of them.

— I can't tell you right now, but maybe I'll see you another day and I'll tell you the story.

I couldn't believe it, would he really leave me in doubt? As I was talking and in my mind I hadn't realized that I had been skipped, I should have been at my table a while ago since I had my last name with a B. There were only a few of us left, I could see the twins, the boy with the honey-colored eyes and three more, we had already arrived at the S.

— Simpson, Erick!

— GRIFFINDOR!

Two more students and we had reached the W.

— Weasley, George!

— GRYFFINDOR!

— Weasley, Fred!

— GRYFFINDOR! — The students in your house must be getting sore from clapping their hands. Both brothers were in the same house and, as far as I could see, so were the rest of their siblings because I could only see two more pairs of red heads like theirs. You could tell it was in the blood.

There were two of us left, the boy with the honey eyes and me. I didn't know where to hide from the embarrassment of not being called to the hat, had something happened, shouldn't I be here?

— Williams, Zac!

The boy walks up to where the hat was, puts it on and then sits down, it didn't last a second on his head and he had already shouted:

— SLYTHERIN!

Zac, I didn't know if it was because of the lights floating above us, but he looked pale, he was in the house he hadn't wanted to be in. He, ruefully went to the house table as they patted his back.

All around me there were whispers, perhaps they were talking about me being the only one in the center of the dining room without being chosen. Professor McGonagall, despite her serious face, gave me a nod of her head, implying that she wanted me to go up to the hat.

— Barnes, Amelea! - she said.

I went up to the hat with my head down, put it on my head and sat on the stool waiting for her answer.

— Mm - said a voice close to my ear. — You're a pretty hard case. Someone full of hopes, with big dreams, the desire for a good family. There is enough talent inside you, a great future ahead of you is foreseen. You can be in Gryffindor with your great courage. — the voice kept telling me. — But you can also be in Slytherin, there they can help you to the path of greatness, you are very intelligent. — I was still silent, I didn't know what to think. — I think you'll do better in SLYTHERIN!

I heard the hat shout and the Slytherin table started clapping again. I took off my hat and covered my eyes as I felt a lot of clarity in them. Feeling everyone's eyes on me, I made my way to my table, sitting next to Zac, who gave me a nervous smile.

Professor McGonagall rolled up the parchment and took the Sorting Hat.

It felt weird, like everyone was judging you being in the most hated house of all.

A silver-haired gentleman with a long beard stood up. He was the one I had seen before... Yes! On the trip to the castle on the chocolate frog card. What was his name, Dumbledore?

He was looking at us with a beaming expression, arms wide open, as if nothing could please him more than to see them there.

— Welcome! — he said. — Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I want to say a few words. And here you are, you muppets, you crybabies, you trinkets, you pinchers... Thank you very much!

He sat back down as we all applauded, what the heck did he say?

— Did you get it? — Zac asked.

— Not at all. — I answered as I raised my shoulders.

The empty plates in front of us were filling up with food. It was so much food, more than I had ever seen and much healthier than what I ate at Grandma Isabella's house. I started to fill my plate with a little bit of everything except peas, I never liked them and started to eat, everything was so delicious.

— You know, it's strange that you don't know about the Potter family, they have been very famous for their history and the betrayal of their best friend, besides the son, who was saved, they call him The Boy Who Survived. — said Zac with a mouth full of food.

— I've never heard of them before, it's my first time, besides, I don't know anything about magic or why I'm really here, I'm just an ordinary person. — I answered while taking more bacon.

— Are you a muggle?

— It sounds weird when they say it like that, but yes, I don't have a drop of magic in me.

— There must be something, because if there wasn't, you wouldn't be here.

I didn't give it much importance, I just kept eating my dinner, but it was true, if I didn't have a drop of magic, why was I here?

After a while of eating the dessert, Dumbledore stood up again and the dessert that had been on the table was gone.

— Ahem... Just a few more words, now that we have all eaten and drunk. I have a few announcements to make to you for the beginning of the year.

» First years should note that the woods in the castle area are off limits to all students.

— I also remind you that you are not to do magic at recess or in the corridors, so we can prevent any accidents.

» And finally quidditch tryouts will take place in the second week of term. Those interested in playing for their house teams should contact Mrs. Hooch.

I had heard that name before...quidditch...I think I saw it when we were walking down Diagon Alley in a store...yes...it was brooms, reportedly flying.

— And now, before we go to bed, let's sing the school song! — exclaimed Dumbledore and then waved his wand, a long golden strip appeared, rose between the tables, waved like a snake and transformed into letters... I hope Slytherin has nothing to do with snakes, I'm afraid of them.

— Everyone can choose their favorite tune! — Dumbledore said cheerfully as behind him the teachers could be seen forcing their smiles, they must be loving this moment.

And this is when the whole school screamed:

Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hogwarts, teach us something, please. Even if we are old and bald or young with dirty knees, our minds can be filled With some interesting subjects. For now they are empty and full of air, dead fleas and a bit of fluff. So teach us things worth knowing, make us remember what we forget, do the best you can, we'll do the rest, and we'll learn until our brains burn out.

Many finished at different times, voices could still be heard singing and when I turned my gaze to where it came from, it was the Weasley twins who were still singing, they were chaotic. Dumbledore clapped enthusiastically as he heard them finish.

— Ah, the music! A magic beyond anything we do here! And now, it's time for bed.

We Slytherin first-graders chased the prefect who led us through the crowded corridors. We descended to the top floor by one of the many marble staircases. From what I had heard in the short time we had been walking was that they changed position over time. The cold was in the air, we were in the castle dungeons. The prefect wasn't telling us that we were currently under the Black Lake, the same lake we had crossed to get to the castle. The corridor was dark, but we could still see through the torches on the walls.

— This is scary... — said Zac walking beside me.

We came to a wall, it looked a little damp, it could be distinguished from the other stone walls.

— In order to enter the common room you must say a password out loud to the wall so that it can open the door for you. The password is Green Snake, don't forget it, if you don't remember the password you won't be able to enter and you will have to wait for someone to help you, please, don't be stupid. — said the prefect to whom he did not know his name.

— Green Snake — he said and the wall began to move until a stone door opened leaving a hole for us to pass through. Everyone wanted to go through at the same time, but I was smart to stay behind with Zac so that I could go through the hole without any effort. The common room was kind of weird and cold, the place was kind of rectangular, there were some black armchairs, they looked kind of uncomfortable.

The prefect led the boys to one of the doors that led directly to the rooms and then directed us girls to our rooms. As far as I could see, the room had five beds, each with poles where they had green curtains, I think they were so that no one could see you when you slept. Our things were already there. I was too tired to see the place, I went to the bathroom to change after the other four girls did and got into bed.

None of those girls had spoken, I don't know if it was because they were antisocial, shy or if they didn't want to talk to anyone. I didn't think anything of it and closed my eyes. I was very full, I had eaten too much bacon in the dining room. Not five minutes had passed and I was already in a deep sleep.