Harry Potter Oneshot - Tumblr Posts

Sirius Black × Reader

❝The silken mist has swallowed him whole, has taken him to a whole other world, all without her.❞  

saccharine sunshine.

draco malfoy × reader

words: 2k

Draco Malfoy is eleven years old when he first catches sight of a blur of sunshine one bleak and blustery afternoon. It clouds the vision in his left eye, snatches his attention for more than fifteen seconds, forces him to whip his head - his entire body - around, all just to catch a glimpse, a teeny, minuscule glimpse, of a girl - the girl - bundled beneath the flash of vibrance.

And Draco, well, Draco has to remind himself just how putrid the color truly is. How revolting the House it belongs to is. How even more offensive the girl who resides in the House with the dreadful color is.

Because she is absolutely, positively, completely and down right, utterly horrible. A disgrace to her already disgraceful House.  

And Draco has no desire to discredit his high and mighty family title for someone of such a lowly caste.

×

Draco Malfoy is twelve years old and believes himself even more superior in contrast to the population that makes up Hogwarts. Spitting the word “Mudblood” like venom to its prey nearly every other day, lets it drip from his lips like a faulty faucet in the dead of winter.

And this - this bothers her, gets underneath the thin layer of her flesh, and gnaws away at her every last nerve, bores itself into the endless void of her brain, and pesters her and pounds its menacing name against the drums of her ears, sends her into a frenzied dance of furry in the middle of the night between the cotton quilts dressing her feather, soft mattress, and makes her clamp down on her rose dusted lips till they transfer to a gleaming crimson.  

But she doesn’t dare speak, doesn’t dare say a single word, or crack a simple syllable.

And this - this bothers Draco, infuriates him to no end, seeps underneath the translucent skin of his peeked cheeks sending them into a flurry of untameable flames.   

But he doesn’t dare stop, doesn’t dare let the chance of her speaking to him flutter away like the tattered leaf tumbling down, down, down to the ruby littered ground right before his very eyes in this very moment in time.  

And it occurs to him, rather harshly, that the word itself doesn’t taste half as well as he’d anticipated.

×

It isn’t until Draco’s third year he musters the courage to speak two words to her.    

“Watch it!” he hisses.

And it’s the girl’s turn to whip her head - her entire body - around, all just to stare him down dead in the eye.

And, my God, if she’s not completely and down right, utterly gorgeous in the bleeding sunlight.

But instead of spitting venom right back at him, she smiles. A graceful grin, a sneaky smirk, and the corridor shimmers and glimmers under her ethereal presence.  

A remark suffused with snark is rolling around behind the walls of her loosely sealed lips, a playful glint igniting a spark in her eyes as she speaks.

“What makes you think I’m the one who needs to watch it?”

Swiftly like the autumn wind scraping against the dust filled windowpanes, she twirls around and is on her way.  

And that is that.

×

Draco Malfoy is fourteen years old and standing beneath the midnight stream of a crystallized chandelier watching ever so carefully, ever so cautiously as she glissades across the grandeur, ice floor, five fingers intertwined with those of a distinguishable boy with a diacritic scar and a detectable pair of spectacles.

And Draco, he’s seething, is hardly breathing, can hardly see clearly for the burning, gurgling concoction seeping up and up and up his esophagus.

It’s not until later when his eyes catch on the billow of her dress, and the shimmer of her skin, and the catalytic twirling of the wind between her hair and -

She feels the weeping of the wound before he even pulls the trigger, hears the breeze beneath his feet as he glides across the snippy December air from behind the spot of where she stands.

“Careful,” she spirals around slowly, gown bound lowly to the tips of her toes. “Stare any longer, and I might actually bleed out.”

“Wouldn’t want that.”

“Right. I’d hate to be the one to dirty your pretty, shiny shoes.”

He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it once more, but reverts back to the resounding silence.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“You sure about that?”

Draco’s never been sure about much of anything.

“I’ve got a question for you, Malfoy, and I want the truth.”

Draco’s only ever learned how to form petty lies around his pretty lips.

“Why is it you’ve never called me that.”

“Called you what?”

And he knows, oh, my God does Draco know.

“You’re a remarkably good liar,” she whispers, and it’s only then and there, Draco takes note of just how close they’ve become in such a short span of time. “But not that good.”

“You just never heard me.” he retaliates coolly, and rather quickly.

Much too quickly, and not quite chilly enough.

Her face grows closer until it’s mere millimeters away from his unraveling lips. Their breaths are intertwining, and body heat is interweaving, and tightened chests are quickly rising and -

“I don’t believe you.”

Draco’s not so sure he’s ever felt so cold in all his life.

×

It isn’t until fifth year Draco receives a shock most alarming.

It isn’t until fifth year he receives a dose of fiery, cold water down the shirt on his back, feels it trickle down the iron wrought staircase of his spine and slither through the notches of his ribs, down to the very marrow of his very bones.  

It isn’t until his fifth year is nearing its end he receives a tangible whack across his face more abrupt and unexpected and unwelcome than Granger’s back in third year.

It isn’t until his fifth year he receives his first kiss.

And it goes a little something like this:

A girl - the girl - comes billowing down a torch-lit, midnight swept corridor with a laugh lodged in her throat and a flush tainted to her cheeks.

And he knows she cannot, should not be here, knows he should not be considering letting her be, remaining free, and he knows, oh, my God, does Draco know he should snatch her wrists and commit his sin by turning her in and gain himself a win, but he cannot, cannot, cannot bring his rigid form to break free from this rock hard mold, cannot, cannot, cannot bring himself to do the wrong thing because this is her, and as much as he really, truly, deeply detests her, it appears he cannot unveil the strength he needs to pull through with this daunting task.

But when she spies him spying her, she stops, stumbles, stutters, all wide eyes and saturated shadows melting down her waxy features.

It’s a moment of silence - a moment of truth - as they stare the other down, waiting for a sign - a motion, a flash, a jolt - that they are, in fact, flesh and bones and not cold, hard stone.

“You shouldn’t be here.” is all he says - all he can think to say. Because every other possible letter and word and sentence is mortar on the roof of his mouth.

“You’re going to turn me in, aren’t you?” she quietly inquiries, though, it’s hardly an inquiry at all. Rather, it’s more of a confrontation, an invitation, a dare.

A sickly, sweet dare.

A sickly, sweet dare Draco swishes around his mouth, rolls across his tongue, spreads over his taste buds and shoves down his esophagus.

It’s a dare - a dare so utterly sweet, so undeniably taunting - one Draco cannot seem to say “yes” or “no” to.

A cheshire cat smile tickles her lips as her maddening stare bores bullets through his soul, his skull, his fucking sanity. She’s closing in and grinning big as she places one foot in front of the other until she’s close, closer, closest, until he can no longer breath, no longer see the precise lines of her sloping nose and razor wire jawline.

And they’re barely missing, skin almost, almost, almost kissing.

And it’s oh so tantalizing, oh so terrifying.

Their lips are brushing, heartbeats pulsing -

- And their lips are touching, pulse points rushing.

And this - this is new.  

This is different. This is enthralling. This is enticing. This is petrifying, just as it is electrifying.

And his next movement comes uninitiated, unpredicted. For his fingers weave through the waves of her hair as he kisses, kisses, kisses her back so hard and so long that his lips swell and his tongue exudes a lurid, berry syrup.  

Teeth clink and guards sink, and without a blink or a proper moment to think, he’s crashing into the cold, hard ground without anything or anyone to grasp on to.

×

Draco Malfoy is sixteen years old, and his life is spiraling out of control.

Because there’s a mark, you see, all serrated and stark against shockingly white flesh. The ink rubs against his veins the wrong way.

His tears seep through the starch of his shirt and his blood flows through the crevices of the scabrous stones of the girl’s bathroom floor.

He’s bleeding out, and there’s nothing he can do to make it stop.

This is how she finds him - lying in a flood of horrors, the basin overflowing, blood drowning her toes and filling his lungs.

She can’t quite bear the sight.

She runs to him, holds him tight, with all her might, without a fright and -

And she doesn’t let go.

Draco really doesn’t know how much longer he can keep on fighting.

He realizes he’s finally reached the end of the line.

Perhaps that was his destination this whole time.

“Please, Professor, you have to help him,” she whispers, quiet desperation slipping from her tongue, and spilling from her eyes.

Draco can’t help but wonder if this is what it feels like to die.

Because lying here it all seems much too crystal clear.

The end of the world is finally here, knocking on his door, his demise has arrived at long last.

×

Draco Malfoy is seventeen years old, and the time has come for him to go.

Because there’s a war, you see, all blood and gore amidst a world torn in two.

It’s cackling like a tortuous scorn inside the walls of his head, thrumming and humming within the flow of his bloodstream, screaming and crying and -

“I have to go.” he says, words reverberating through the ash-mottled air. 

His name has been called, and it’s time for him to move on, to choose the side he was meant to all along.

He can’t help but feel as if he were the one who had been wrong after all.

“You don’t have to,” she says, and oh, my God, Draco knows.

He knows.

"Oh, but I do, love.”

She shakes her head, digs her nails into the lapels of his jacket. There’s soot in her hair, and tears in her eyes, and blood on her lips. Draco can feel the final sigh of his once beating heart, the tumbling of the walls inside his chest.

He really did try his best.

Draco knows this is a final goodbye, and a screaming cry and a dire prayer to a God that Draco’s unsure is even there and -

“I love you,” he says.

But only inside the back of his head.

Draco Malfoy × Reader

❝I love you.❞ he says.

❝But only inside the back of his head.❞

Sirius Black x Reader

soulmate au

❝He kisses her then, grabs her tenderly by the jaw, can feel the crimson dripping down his palms.

She doesn’t suffocate.

The world is okay.❞

haphazard.

draco malfoy x reader

*requested

in which two war-torn lovers confess their feelings as the world comes to its end.

prompt list.

x

When Draco Malfoy is seventeen years old, he twines a promise around her finger and pins a secret to his heart.

Because Voldemort has ascended and there’s blood on the Drawing Room floor - dirty blood, tainted blood, Granger’s blood - and there’s cries imbued into the whorls of Draco’s mind, crashing and burning and tangible and scarring. There's Dumbledore's pleas and Thorfinn's screams and Crabbe's ashes and a ring on her finger and a knife hanging over his head and Potter's dead, Potter's dead, gave up his life so that the world might go on and everyone, everything will be alright.

But everything is not alright, no, nothing is okay. Because Draco is running and running, and he’s searching and searching, and oh, God, oh, God he can’t find her, he can’t find her, and there’s rubble crunching beneath his feet and soot seeping into his lungs, and oh, God, oh, God he can barely breathe.

When he finds her on a fourth-floor corridor backed into a corner by Fenrir Greyback with her fingers grasping her ribs and her wand lying half a yard away, his breath catches, and his heart stutters and his mind flatlines.

A curse falls from his lips. It sounds so natural and tastes so bitter, and it makes him feel sick.

“Draco?”

“Come on. We have to hurry.”

He fits his fingers to her hips, and it feels like fourth year all over again. With frost clinging to her hair and petals falling from her lips and a kiss - sweet, sweet, sweet - pressing against the corner of his mouth because she’d missed his cheek, but he doesn’t believe that was an accident, no.

Not entirely.

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, hopes she doesn’t hear him.

Screams are reverberating off the walls and splintering the stone and Draco is vaguely reminded of Granger's guttural cries and Thorfinn's screams and Dumbledore's final plea and Crabbe's bones lying in a pile of muddled memories beneath the cabinet in the Room of Requirement and God, oh, God, he can barely even breathe.

He stops running, swipes a thumb across the picket white fence of her knuckles and reiterates to himself that he is breathing and she is real.

He holds onto that, onto her hand, tells himself a pretty lie he refuses to swallow and choke on.

He stops running, faces her, grasps the slope of her chin in the cusp of his palms, can feel the pads of his thumbs pulsating beneath the subtle jut of her cheekbones.

“Listen to me. Listen to me, please. I love you. More than I ever truly knew. More than you’ll ever begin to know. And that - that is my downfall. That has been my mistake this entire time. My mistake was falling for you.”

She grabs the starch of his collar and digs her nails into his nape and drags her teeth along his lips and presses her ribs flush against his and he thinks - God, he knows - their hearts are pounding in perfect tandem.

When she pulls away, there’s copper rusted on her chin.

“We’ve both made mistakes,” she whispers, her breath biting his lips. He can still taste their kiss.

Sweet, sweet, sweet.

Crimson lightning strikes the morning air.

The sky falls.

roulette.

draco malfoy x gryffindor!reader

*requested

it’s an accident, the way she falls, the way he burns.

prompt list.

x

Draco meets his match on a nippy October morn. It’s a blur of lurid, cherry lips, fleeting palpitations, splinters digging into palms, and broomsticks stitched across bleeding hearts. She‘s standing in front of the line up with a knife-sharp glare intact and a knee-jerk grin on the ready.

He thought Potter was the enemy.

He just hadn’t met her.

x

She plays rough, dirty. All crimson caked knuckles and midsummer thunderstorms bursting in color across cheekbones.

She gave him his first black eye. He almost thanked her.

“You know, Malfoy, perhaps you should consider trying. That way practice could actually be worthwhile.”

Draco grits his teeth and digs his nails into the neck of his broomstick and squeezes, squeezes, squeezes his eyes shut till his vision bleeds of titian fireworks and shooting stars.

“Well, perhaps you could try winning for once instead of talking big like you Gryffindors are known for doing.“

She smiles, molasses-slow and honey cloy.

He swallows, thick and audible.

“You haven’t won yet, Malfoy.”

It’s not a race. It’s a game.

And Draco intends to win.

Whatever it takes.

x

The opening match of the season takes place on a frostbitten morn in early November. Thick, silver tendrils weave their fingers through Draco’s hair as raindrops hang heavy on his lashes and the earth bruises his cheeks.

As if Draco believed in miracles, Potter split the bones in his wrist mere hours before. He doesn’t know how this came about. He suspects Flint is behind it.

“We need you to take Harry’s place,” Angelina says storming into the Great Hall before the game is set to begin, voice shrill and nerves visibly disheveled. “He managed to break his arm this morning, and you’re the next best on the team.”

He doesn’t expect her to be good.

He doesn’t expect to lose.

x

His heart is pounding in perfect tandem with the crowd, wrought iron veins in a twist beneath the gossamer veil of his wrist. He can feel thunder coiling beneath his feet. The applause is deafening, defeating, bruising, bleeding. Draco believes he might be drowning.

When he finally catches sight of the snitch - hair-trigger and razor-sharp and gold, gold, gold - she’s diving nose first towards the ground. The crowd comes to an asphyxiating standstill.

Draco tells himself she can’t make it, she won’t. She’s going to crash, and she’s going to burn, and she surely won’t, no, she can’t -

She does.

He watches, mesmerized, as gilded gold melts between her fingers, dribbles up her arm, and seeps into her veins. She swerves around, stares him down, smirks, winks, then turns the other way.

Draco never did believe in miracles.

No, not until today.

x

She snatched the snitch and stole his heart, the once bruising palpitations kicking his chest now nothing more than a tender, bated breath.

“You’ve been distracted, Malfoy,” Flint says one evening after practice. The sound of metal kissing metal grates against Draco’s eardrums and makes him shiver.

“Yeah? How so?” he replies, too tired to look up.

He does anyway.

Flint angles his head and squares his shoulders disproportionately. He’s smirking, the crimson crusted over his lips begins to gleam.

“It’s the girl, isn’t it.”

It’s not a question.

“I’ve hardly noticed her.”

Flint wants to laugh. Draco can see that in the superficial lilt of his lips and the dimple puncturing the center of his right cheek.

He doesn’t believe him.

Draco doesn’t care.

X

Draco tells himself it’s an accident.

Draco knows it’s not an accident.

Knows this because of the glint in Flint’s eye and the way Goyle chuckles just a little too hard after the bludger has been sent flying across the pitch, ending in a breathtaking kiss. He knows it’s not an accident, no. Because she’s fading, falling, spiraling into an abyss. Endless and black and ensnared between the tangled web of space and time.

Draco knows the feeling all too well.

X

When she wakes, the sun is seeping through the filigree and permeating the sheets. Her eyes are bleeding, and her head is spinning, and her ears are ringing, and -

“Good, you’re awake.” a woman says.

She turns her head. Her eyes have stopped bleeding, but the ringing -

God, the ringing is incessant.

“What happened?”

“You had a bad fall during Quidditch practice this morning. Just a couple of bumps and bruises. Nothing to worry yourself over.”

She sinks her teeth into her lips, tastes something bitter, but not blood, no, not exactly.

“That note there is for you, dear. A boy stopped by earlier. Suppose he wanted to check in and see if you were alright.”

“A boy? Was it Harry?” she says, eyes catching fire as the room begins to spin. The words inside her head hardly make sense.

“He was gone before I could get a good look at him, but from what I could see, it wasn’t Mr. Potter.”

She knits her brows, studies the penmanship, knows it’s not Harry’s, no.

She recognizes who it belongs to, yes. Can distinguish languid syllabus and tender vowels dipped in curlicue ink and swiped away in ebony streaks.

Harry never signs his name in cursive.

X

The words are sweaty in her palm, draped across lifelines and stamped into her bloodstream.

Meet me in the Astronomy Tower at midnight, the note reads, vivid, obsidian ink coiling in the late November breeze.

She stumbles across the cedar planks leading to the Astronomy Tower balcony. Stops, stutters, stalls when she sees a sliver of moonlight steal beneath the swell of his lips and the slope of his clavicle.

“Malfoy,” she seethes, narrows her gaze and clutches the tea-stained scrap of parchment in her hand. She can feel crimson streaks racing down her palm.

“You came,” he says, sitting on the edge of the ironclad railing. His fingertips are pressed white hot against the intricate rods.

She thinks he might jump.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come,” he continues after a beat, a spell, a moment stolen, a moment lost, he’s hardly certain.

She crosses her arms across her breast, favors her left leg, says, “There are many things you think of me, Malfoy. But you forget, I prove you wrong quite often.”

He clears his throat, runs his tongue along his lip, can taste something vile and tangible, but not blood, no, not quite.

“Then let me ask you this,” his shadow spills across the floor, heels caressing the walls and hands slipping languidly between the silken threads of his pockets.

The mere conception of it all is vexatious.

“Why are you here?”

She looks up at him with indignation shining brightly in her eyes. When he looks at her the way he’s looking at her now, she doesn’t feel quite so brave or bold or much like a Gryffindor at all.

“I’m tired of pretending,” she whispers tenderly, tiresome, lungs rubbed raw and words bled dry, “It’s hard to hate someone you don’t truly hate.”

He’s quiet for one, two, three -

“I suppose it is rather exhausting,” he replies, shifts his weight from side to side, sees the stars align and then collide, fall, burn all for her, only her, always her.

“If you didn’t think I’d show, why did you even bother asking me to meet you here?”

Draco purses his lips and bites his tongue and digs, digs, digs his nails into his palms. He can feel the lifelines snap and the sapphires shatter. 

And it’s sudden how nothing else matters when he kisses her. All blistering rubies and glistening pearls and blood on his tongue that burns, bubbles, bruises. 

He presses her spine against the woodwork, fits his fingers to her hips, and spells her name across her lips. He can feel the Earth crumble beneath the whorls of his veins like the rubble running down the streets of Pompeii. 

He doesn’t know what it means.

He will.

domino effect.

draco malfoy x slytherin!reader

*requested

x

Draco’s blood is not pure, has been contaminated with bittersweet toxins that feather his veins and stain his wrists a terribly virulent shade of black. He can feel the Yew digging white-hot into his flesh, has to bite his lip and choke on the bile ascending his esophagus to defuse the pain.

Accepting the mark was his first mistake, an inevitable fate, a terribly hideous disillusionment he cannot erase.

He sees that now.

x

Draco doesn’t exactly forget the summer of his sixteenth year, no.

Not quite.

Because there’s a succession of nightmares spinning round and round his peripheral. A woman, and a teacher, and an innocent fragment of collateral damage levitating ten feet from the dining room table, flames licking her face, eyes glossy and lifeless and perpetually fearful.

The memory is the first of many.

Fragmented and enigmatic and easily misunderstood. They begin as ink-stained silhouettes that eat up the walls in the dead of night. They’re fuliginous and obscure and only reside within the back of his head, or so he says. 

Because now he’s doubled over in a wicked, wretched pain, has a prayer like a kiss falling from his lips and blood dribbling down his hands like an omen.

He pinches his skin.

Feels the pain.

x

Draco’s sixth year at Hogwarts is unlike the other five, is more like handcuffs and confines and secrets that morph into pretty white lies. He has splinters in his palms and ink between his fingers, vitriol in his veins and words stuck between his teeth.

Amortentia never did smell so sweet.

He inhales the saccharine aroma of honeysuckle blossoms, heady wood polish, and the summer nostalgia of his fifteenth year spent languidly sprawled across the serrated shingles lining the roof of Malfoy Manor. Summer had felt infinite then, with the days melting down the hills and the jut of her chin, suffusing the lilac currents of her wrists and spewing out the ends of her fingertips. He remembers feeling the desire to kiss her - hard, soft, asphyxiating, inebriating. He did, and it was exhilarating.

But summer is gone, has faded with the dusk, has been replaced by perpetual nightfall and a bitter, biting chill that slips through his spine and the teeth of his ribs.

“I smell,” she begins, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear so he can see the potion catch in her eyes like dewdrops on spider’s silk. “Eucalyptus and sandalwood and something,” she stops, closes her eyes, inhales, “Something sweet. Like freshly fallen rain.”

It rained earlier that morning.

x

The cabinet is broken, is nothing more than dust mottled crevices and musty drawers that don’t even open.

And time is not on Draco’s side, no, for he can feel the hands of his grandfather's wristwatch slipping down his wrist and into his veins. Can feel the burn, burn, fucking burn searing his flesh and boiling his blood. 

It’s poison, and he’s drowning. 

He can still taste the toxicant bite of the witch’s apple fresh on his tongue as a heavy curse hangs from his fingertips and comes undone at his lips. He peels back the starch of his sleeve, digs his nails into his flesh, prays, hopes, wishes that maybe, just maybe he can turn back the hands of time and change his mind.

x

She’s a daydream caught between a labyrinth of ancient incantations and finger-smudged ink.

He thinks he may as well be dreaming.

Because the last light of day is catching fire on the ends of her hair as kaleidoscopic shadows race down the notches of her spine. Her wooly skirt brushes up against the sides of her thighs as an emerald green mosaic paints a landscape of shadows across her face.

Draco feels his equilibrium slipping off its axis.

Because he’s chasing her like he once chased those sultry summer sunsets from the roof of Malfoy Manor, can feel her melt like wax between his fingers, and her lips pressed to his. Can taste her lipgloss dribbling down his chin like sticky sugar liquor and gossamer candyfloss.

He’s running out of time.

Can feel the sand slipping through his grasp and filling up his shoes. Can feel the water crashing against his lungs and crushing his ribs and oh, God, oh, God, this is what it feels like to die, isn’t it? 

He’s certain this is a dream. A bitter, bittersweet reverie.

He closes his eyes.

Sees the world in colors he’s never seen before.

x

Draco watches as the sun slips between the fingers of the pines lining the horizon, watches as the syrup-thick rays catch in the murky window panes of the fourth-floor corridor and spill across the timeworn stone, across the patent leather of his Brogues.

Within minutes, the stars coagulate in an array of constellations as the night saturates the sky in caliginous shades of violet. The time has come to do what must be done.

“Draco, there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

The moon drags its teeth across her face, stars bleeding out, dying, in her eyes. “Where have you been?” she asks, again, differently this time.

"There's something I need to tell you." He says, twists his fingers behind his back, and slides his teeth across his tongue, and feels the earth tremble beneath his feet.

She takes a tentative step forward and angles her head. Draco can see her wide eyes gleam beneath the midnight sheen of the balmy June night, can see the silver dollar smile of the moon reflect off her emerald green tie.

“What’s wrong?” she no more than whispers. 

It sounds like a scream.

And he can hardly fucking breathe as he drags his arms from behind his back, wholly bare and visibly bruised, laid out explicitly for her to see.

She's quiet for a moment, a minute, a heartbeat, a lifetime, and he's desperate for her to speak, to say something, anything, everything, or maybe nothing at all.

She reaches out, brushes her fingers across the roadmap of his veins, drags her nails across the ink, across the teeth of the stain that mars the flesh of his left arm. He feels the sting, then the bite, then the forest fire burn of her touch.

She’s intrigued, he thinks.

“When?” she whispers, not quite letting go of his arm, holding on just a little bit tighter. “When did this happen? When did he do this to you?”

“Last summer. Right after I turned sixteen.”

She nods and he swallows, suddenly feeling as though he’s choking, or suffocating, or drowning, maybe. He takes a step back, states his desperate need to leave and turns around before she can blink and he can cave.

“Wait, no, I’m not letting you leave like this,” she says, snatching his wrist and pulling him back into a tender, bittersweet kiss.

All Draco can taste is a tangible, decadent doom. A premonition of the end. Her lips are soft and their kiss is sacred and this moment is fleeting, fleeting, gone.

He pinches his skin.

Numbness.

an arranged marriage to draco malfoy

draco malfoy x pureblood gryffindor!reader

The ring is heavier than he’d anticipated

A pocket full of posies searing through the threads of his trousers, biting and bruising and burning his flesh

He’s sixteen, and the world is just beginning to weigh heavy on his shoulders

But the ring

The ring

Nothing quite compares to the weight of the promise in his pocket, the premonition of a dreadfully bloody epilogue

Because once upon a time on a mid-June afternoon when the sun is high and the air is warm, he takes the ring from his pocket and slips it over her finger

He swipes a thumb across the back of her hand and kisses each delicate jut of her knuckles, watches her blush like a rose beneath the microscope of the sun

She smiles, and Draco wishes he could capture it and hold on to it forever

But even the light of a firefly soon dies out and summer comes to a close, thunder fading in the distance and colors falling from the trees

The world is spinning out of proportion, tilting on its axis, slipping from his grasp

And it all comes undone with a gasp from his lips, a sharp jab to his ribs, a faint shiver in his bones

He can feel his blood running cold, can feel the water rising past his knees, can feel the ribbon-thin curl of ink spilling into his bloodstream

It’s not long before he’s drowning in the nightmares

Because a war is brewing, is dancing along the horizon, an epic contrast against the charcoal smoke bleeding out across the sky

But there's a girl with a ring on her finger waiting on the other side, and Draco can't help but wonder how things would have turned out had he been on the winning side from the start

They’re married on a mid-June afternoon when the sun is high and the air is warm

He takes her hands in his, slips a ring over her finger, watches the sunlight catch and shatter and fade away

Thinks that maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay

Score for Gryffindor

Oliver Wood x Reader

~★~❤︎~✦~

SLYTHERIN WINS… the whole of Slytherin erupts with cheers while Oliver lands the rest of the Gryffindor team falling close behind. They watch Oliver closely; he's fuming there's smoke coming out of his ears. They've learned through the years that it's best to leave him alone when he's in a mood like this. 

Then they see her, the Slytherin captain and Oliver woods nemesis. She's constantly teasing him, messing with him trying to get in his head before any games even if it's not against Slytherin. Oliver always gets pissy after they talk, usually taking it out his frustrations on the team. That's the last thing they need right now, not when he's already about to explode. 

“Good game Wood” they were not expecting that, there was no teasing in your tone you were being genuine. For a moment they think that someone must have drunk a polyjuice potion and replaced you.

Oliver on the other hand knew you were still messing with him as soon as the words left your mouth he felt something snap inside him. You’ve always been bitchy to him, teasing him not only during quidditch. You’d stop him before he heads to the pitch for practice and rile him up even during classes, you always find a way to bother him. 

“Shove it, L/n”

“Don’t be that way, I’m just being friendly” You reach out placing a hand on his shoulder, a friendly gesture it would seem. Oliver didn't take it that way, no you couldn't be friendly. Everything you did had an alternative meaning, and right now he had no patience for it. In a second he's shoving you against the closet wall getting right in your face. 

George is the first to speak telling Oliver to calm down; they never expected their captain to get violent. He gets very passionate about quidditch but he's never done anything like this. 

“Shut your mouth before I shut if for you” Olivers' words are filled with venom. Instead of being intimidated though, you seem pleased, excited even. 

“Please do” your voice is just above a whisper but the team still caught it. Their eyes widened dramatically. No way the ice cold Slytherin captain just said that, and no way is there captain Oliver Wood snogging them.  None of them knew what to do till Oliver pulled away from you leading you away from the pitch.

“Guess Woods going to be scoring on Slytherin after all” 

My Astronomer

Draco Malfoy x Reader

~★~❤︎~✦~

“What about that one?” you point at the collection of stars. 

“Cassiopeia, also known as the seated queen” he quickly answers once again earning an amazed look from you. The two of you have been doing this all night. It started off as a nighttime picnic by the lake. The stars were just so beautiful you started to stargaze. Now you're having your boyfriend tell you every single constellation in the London night sky. Draco’s always been better at astronomy, having a natural talent and passion for the subject. 

“What-”

He cuts you off, grabbing your hand so you can no longer point at the sky. “I love you darling but I’m beginning to think you want me to name every star in the night sky.” 

“I just like to hear you talk”, It's true he could be reading his potion textbook and you would sit and listen to him. Something about his voice just captivates you. Though he’s especially enchanting when he’s talking about something he’s passionate or knowledgeable about. Astronomy checks both those boxes, so can he really blame you for making him stay up late and tell you about the stars. 

“I can think of much better things my mouth can be doing besides listing the constellations”, he wiggles his eyebrows for added effect. You can’t help the fond smile that overtakes your face or the giggle that follows. You love your handsome astronomer. 

The two of you share a soft kiss, all smiles and giggles. Between kisses he amuses your need for him to talk about the stars.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

Draco Malfoy x Reader

~★~❤︎~✦~

“Everyone shut up he’s coming” you whisper shout, quickly turning off the lights and ducking behind a table. The air is heavy with anticipation, everyone listening closely to the tapping of shoes against tile. As soon as the door opens and lights turn on, you’re all jumping out of your various hiding places.

A chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’ rang out. Making the blonde jump. 

“BLOODY HELL!!” Draco yells, grabbing his wand and pointing at the crowd. “Are you trying to kill me?” 

“You're the one pointing your wand at us” you speak up walking over to your boyfriend. He chuckles, pocketing his wand before pulling you into a sweet kiss. “Happy birthday”, you repeat.

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble”, he tells you looking around the room packed full of his friends. A large smile decorating his face, he couldn't believe you did this all for him.

“Hey are you forgetting about us” Pansy calls out. 

“Yeah we helped,” Blaise adds. Draco chuckles, his smile growing.

“Thank you all, now let’s get this party started!” Cheers erupt in the room.

That night was one of the best birthdays he ever had. He partied all night with his friends and got multiple birthday kisses from his lovely partner.

Perfect

Pairing- Harry Potter x Fem!reader

 Summary: The series of events of Y/N’s and Harry’s love story.

Warnings: Mentions of death, pure fluff

Word count: 2.9k (including song lyrics)

A/N: This is based on Ed Sheeran’s Perfect. So listen to that for a better experience. Also it’s my first time writing something like this so please lmk if you find any mistakes. And English isn’t my first language so their maybe grammar errors.

______________________________________________________________

I found a love for me

Darling just dive right in and follow my lead.

‘She’s so beautiful’ he thought. You were celebrating your 5 year anniversary with your boyfriend Harry, and your two best friends Ron and Hermione. And Harry couldn’t stop looking at and admiring you.

Today he was going to do the thing he has always dreamed of. He had asked your god parents for your hand three days prior and he was glad that they gave him their blessings.

“What are you looking at?” you asked as you noticed him staring.

“You are gorgeous.” He replied. Your cheeks slowly turned into a shade of pink.

Well, I found a girl, beautiful and sweet

Oh, I never knew you were the someone waiting for me.

Harry’s mind drifted to the day he met you; The love of his life.

You were just sorted into Gryffindor and came to sit next to him. “Hi, I’m Y/N, Y/N L/N,” you greeted him lifting your hand to shake. “I am Harry, Harry Potter.” And you two instantly became very good friends.

“Oh stop it,” you said covering your face with one hand. “What? I am just saying the truth.” He replied grinning.

‘Cause we were just kids when we fell in love

Not knowing what it was,

“Harry it’s okay, I’m here,” you said pulling him in your chest while he sobbed as Dumbledore laid there dead. “It’s alright.”

“Please don’t leave me too, Y/N,” he begged in between his sobs. “I’m not going anywhere, Harry. I’m here and I’ll always be. I promise.” You promised as you rubbed his back to calm him down. That was the moment he truly and deeply fell in love with you.

He was smiling widely as he thought about this memory. He felt as if he was the luckiest person on this earth because he got to loved by you.

I will not give you up this time,

Darling just kiss me slow,

Your heart is all I own 

And in your eyes you’re holding mine.

“NO!” you screamed as you tried to reach where Hagrid held Harry’s body when Voldemort announced him dead but George Weasley held you tight. You couldn’t lose him. You couldn’t lose the boy you truly loved. You couldn’t lose him without telling him how you felt.

But then everything happened so fast and now you were watching Voldemort fading away in the air.

“Harry!” you yelled as you ran towards him and threw your arms around his neck. He wrapped his hand around your waist and pulled you close and hugged you tightly. 

“Oh Harry, I thought you- you-” you couldn’t say it. He placed his one hand on cheek and said, “I’m here Y/N, and I’m not going anywhere.”

‘It’s now or never’ you thought before taking a deep breathe and started, “I’m in love with you, Harry Potter.”

“Y-you are?”

“Yes, I’ve loved you ever since you comforted me when my parents were killed back in sixth year. And I promise to love you forever if you let me. I promise to be with you forever if you let me. I promise-”

But you were cut off in between when Harry pressed his lips on yours. You were shocked at first but then kissed back. It was a gentle and sweet kiss filled with love, passion, admiration, happiness and so many other emotions you both felt.

“I love you too, Y/N, so much. Ever since you comforted me when Dumbledore died.” 

You pulled him into another kiss. This time it was more passionate than before. Filled with more love and happiness than before. He moved his one hand and rested it on your cheek which gave you butterflies. You placed your one hand in his hair and the other on his chest.

And soon there was cheers coming from everywhere, but you didn’t care.

Baby, I’m dancing in the dark,

With you between my arms,

Barefoot on the grass,

Listening to our favorite songs,

Your mind drifted to the tent dance back when you were on Horcrux hunt.

“May I have this dance?” he asked when he heard your favorite song play on the radio and gave his hand to you when he approached where you were sitting. 

Ron had left and Hermione was in the other room sleeping so it was just you and him.

“You may,” you replied smiling slightly taking his hand.

And the two of you danced as if nothing else mattered in the world. There was an ongoing war, but you didn’t care. There were Horcruxes you came to find, but you didn’t care. Voldemort had risen to power, but you didn’t care.

All mattered in that moment was just two of you, dancing slow at the song that played on the radio, and staring into each other’s eyes with pure love, admiration and other mixed emotions.

When you said you looked a mess,

I whispered underneath my breath

“I look a real mess, don’t I?” you asked but Harry shook his head.

But you heard it,

Darling you look perfect tonight.

“Oh darling, you look perfect tonight,” he said kissing your forehead and your cheeks turned pink and your heart fluttered. Even after all these years he’s still able to make you blush and give you butterflies.

Well I found a woman,

Stronger than anyone I know, 

“Stupefy!” you shot a death eater who was going to attack Harry from behind. Harry looked at you with a grateful face and you nodded back.

Then you ran off from there to help Hermione who was also shooting spells on other death eaters.

She shares my dreams I hope that someday

I’ll share her home.

“One day-,” you started while you both were cuddling in your bed, “We’ll buy a house and live there forever.”

“We will, love,” he said smiling. He leaned down and kissed you softly but sweetly. He was glad you thought same about the future.

I found a love, 

To carry more than just my secrets,

To carry love, to carry children of our own. 

He wanted you to carry his heart and love. He wanted to be with you forever. He wanted you to carry both of your children. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

We’re still kids but we’re so in love,

Fighting against all odds,

I know we’ll be alright this time.

“Who does she think she is?!” you snapped when you read an article about you and Harry written by Rita Skeeter. 

‘Y/N L/N is just with Harry Potter because he’s The Boy who Lived. She’s just using him for fame. We know this is sad but it’s true.’ The article said.

“I’ll kill her!” you said as you grabbed your wand but Harry grabbed your arms to stop you.

“Calm down love. We both know it’s not true.” He said kissing your temple.

“But people will get the wrong idea about us,” you said. 

“Let them, we’ll be alright. I promise.” He replied.

Darling just hold my hands,

Be my girl I’ll be your man,

I see my future in your eyes.

“Take my hand,” you said as you and Harry were walking on a street in the night of silent winter. He smiled at you before taking your hand in his.

You rested your head on his shoulder as you walked and you couldn’t help but stare at him. His clenched masculine jawline, his beautiful emerald eyes shining in the moonlight behind his round glasses, his soft and pink lips.

You loved everything about him. He caught you staring and chuckled while your cheeks turned pink.

“What are you looking at?” he asked grinning. 

“Have I ever told you that you have pretty eyes?” you said.

“You have,” he replied smiling and staring right into your glistening E/C eyes. You could look into his eyes forever. You could see a perfect future with him in them. 

You leaned up and pressed your lips on his, softly but passionately. He kissed you back with a smile and with the same passion, love and admiration as you.

Baby, I’m dancing in the dark,

With you between my arms,

Barefoot on the grass,

Listening to our favorite song,

“May I have this dance?” you asked giving him your hand as Ron played both of your favorite song.

“You may,” he said taking your hand and he placed his one hand on your waist while he interlocked your fingers with his other. You placed your free hand on his shoulder and started dancing slow on it. 

Ron and Hermione too started dancing and smiled whenever they glanced at you both.

“You’re still a terrible dancer,” you said giving out a small laugh as Harry stepped on your foot for the fifth time.

“Sorry, I never really danced after our tent incident,” he replied. 

When I saw you in that dress,

Looking so beautiful

I don’t deserve this darling

You look perfect tonight.

He was still in awe when you showed up in your gorgeous red dress today. You looked even more beautiful.

‘How did I get so lucky?’ he thought still dancing with you. Your head was resting on his chest. He watched you as you sighed dreamily clearly thinking about something. 

You both switched partners so now you were dancing with Ron and him with Hermione.

You frowned a bit when you saw tears in Ron eyes. “What’s wrong?” you asked him concerned. Ever since you met Ron and Hermione they had became like a brother and a sister you never had. 

“Nothing, I’m just very happy today,” he replied smiling widely. 

“Oh, what’s the occasion? Is ‘Mione pregnant?” you teased as he rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be stupid, if she was you’d be the first to know. Even before me.” You laughed at this as you both continued to talk and tease each other like siblings.

On the other side, Harry was getting panic attacks while Hermione was trying to calm him. “What if she says no, ‘Mione? What will I do then?” he asked worried.

“Don’t be stupid. Of course she’ll say yes. She’s head over heels in love with you,” she reassured, “and if she doesn’t, I’ll make sure that she’s sent to Azkaban for not saying it.”

Harry laughed at this but his insecurities were still there. What if you didn’t loved him enough to spend your life with him? What if he messed up? What if you broke things off? What if-

“Harry!” he snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Hermione’s voice.

“Yeah?”

“Are you ready?” 

He took a deep breath before nodding making her smile. She nodded as she stepped away.

He looked at Ron and mouthed ‘I am ready’ and Ron nodded smiling in response. 

He started moving you towards Harry and pushed you lightly to make you turn around and when you did-

Baby, I’m dancing in the dark,

With you between my arms.

Barefoot on the grass

Listening to our favorite song

You couldn’t stop your tears flowing at the sight. You found him bent down on one knee, with a ring his hand and happy tears in his eyes as well.

He started, “Y/N, when I was young, I never knew what was love because of the Durlseys. But when I met you, everything changed. I found the brightness in my dark life. I found the reason for my smile, the day I found you. I love you so so much, Y/N. 

With you, my life becomes whole, with you my days become bright. In your hands I would love to lay, this night and for the rest of my life. You’re the only thing I’ll see forever. In my eyes, in my words, and in everything I do, your sight is the only sight that will ever bring me peace.

I have faith in what I see,

Now I know I have met an angel

In person, and she looks

Perfect

I want to grow old with you. I want to raise our children with you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to be with you forever and ever. So Y/N L/N, will you marry me?” he finished tears now uncontrollably falling from both of your eyes.

You were overwhelmed with your emotions and no words came into your throat. So instead you pulled him up and kissed him hard putting all unspoken words, feelings in just one kiss. He kissed you back with same emotions as yours.

“Yes! A million times yes!” you said as you both pulled away and he slipped the ring on your ring finger.

Ron and Hermione, who were watching from a distance couldn’t help up but cry and cheer. They couldn’t tell the happiness they were feeling in words.

I don’t deserve this

You look perfect tonight

You and Harry had your foreheads touch as you stared and smiled at each other.

“I love you so much, Harry Potter.”

“I love you too, soon-to-be Mrs Potter.”

Your lips collided once again. And this was the beginning of a new chapter in your both’s lives.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N- I know it sucked but thanks for still reading it.

Steal my girl

Pairing: James Sirius Potter x Fem!Malfoy!Reader

Summary: When James gets jealous over your obsession with a certain boy band, he finds that very band the key to win your heart.

Warnings: None, just fluff, my poor English :)

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: You and James are in your 7th year. Plus I’m myself a directioner. (Song featured- Steal my girl by One direction.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were walking through the Hogwarts grounds to take a break from everyday routine. You put your headphones on your head and played songs of a muggle band called One Direction, which you came to love so much recently.

You reached your secret spot near Black lake about which only you and and your best friend James knew about. You sat down and stared at the lake as songs got played and bobbed your head with beats. You didn’t notice when James came up beside you until he took your headphones off.

“Geez Y/N, how much loudly do you listen? I’ve been calling you since past five minutes,” he said before putting them on his head, “Woah this loud! And again One Direction?”

“I didn’t want any outside noise and yes again,” you said teasingly. James rolled his eyes.

“Wanna go prank Albus and Scorpius?” he suggested. It was strange that your younger brothers were best friends knowing their parents’ history.

You shook your head. “Nah, I’d rather listen to One Direction.”

He groaned, “Ugh c’mon, you’ve been listening to them since I don’t remember how long. Hang out with me too.”

“And why should I do that?” you teased.

“Because I am the chosen one’s son,” he replied.

“Oh shove off,” you said pushing him slightly by his shoulders before placing your headphones back.

He rolled his eyes. He sat there for some more time and stared at you and wondered how he could get your attention. He couldn’t think of anything so he got up and left. You looked at him walking away towards the castle and couldn’t help but feel a little bad for not spending time with him.

On his way back he ran his hands through his soft hair. ‘I’ve been wanting her attention since a very long time and now she is obsessed with that stupid band’ he thought.

“What should I do?” he yelled in frustration to which Fred Weasley, who heard him, came up to him. 

“Why are you yelling?” he asked.

So he told him all his feelings towards you and how he was jealous of that band. Fred listened to everything he said carefully. He caressed his chin as if thinking very deeply. And after sometime he finally said-

“Do you know her favorite song of the band?”

“No,” James replied with a pout and feeling a little guilty about not knowing your favorite song.

“Hmm, I’ve an idea,” 

“What is it?”

He whispered something in James’ ears and as he went on, the smile on James’ face grew bigger and bigger.

“That’s a brilliant idea!” he exclaimed.

“I know.” Fred replied proudly.

“We do it tonight.” James said grinning.

Meanwhile you were still sitting near Black Lake listening songs until you felt hungry and saw the sky growing darker. You got up, brushed yourself and your dress a little and walked off towards The Great Hall.

When you reached there you saw James standing with a guitar and waving at you. You didn’t knew what he was doing so you just waved back awkwardly.

He winks at you making your cheeks turn pink before turning towards Fred. He whispered something in his ears and then he climbed on the Gryffindor table with his guitar.

“Everyone, can I have your attention?” he said loudly as everyone turned their heads towards him.

“Mr. Potter, what are you doing?” Mcgonagall asked.

“Relax Professor,” he said before continuing, “So I learned this one song for that beautiful lady standing over there” he said pointing at you, “Y/N Malfoy. Maybe then she’ll be obsessed with me.”

You walked up to him and whisper-yelled, “James get down.”

“Just wait and see,” he said before clearing his throat and started playing his guitar and sang- 

“She’s been my queen, since we were sixteen

“We want the same things we dream the same the dreams, alright.”

You immediately recognized the song when he sang the first line. And you couldn’t help but think of him as a younger version of Harry Styles.

He continued, “I got it all ‘cause she is the one, her mom calls me love, her dad calls me son, alright.”

And it wasn’t wrong. Your mom, Astoria, had always called him love or dear like names and your dad, Draco, has also called him son many times. And at his house, his mother, Ginny, also adored you and his dad, Harry, loved your visitings there.

“I know, I know, I know for sure-

Everybody wanna steal my girl, everybody wanna take her heart away, couple billion in the whole wide world, find another one ‘cause she belongs to me.

And it was true. Ever since your fifth year, many people had asked you out for a date or a hogsmeade trip together or to hang out. You were beautiful, kind, smart and what not. You always felt a little bad for rejecting them. James never liked this. He had liked you since you third year and couldn’t help but get jealous whenever someone asked you out. ‘There were other girls in Hogwarts too. Why didn’t they ask them?’ he would always say to Fred.

Everybody wanna steal my girl, everybody wanna take her heart away, couple billion in the whole wide world, find another one ‘cause she belongs to me!”

You couldn’t stop your tears coming down when he sang the ‘na na’ part of the song. He slung his guitar onto his back and said giving you his hand, “so Y/N Malfoy, will you belong to me?”

You grinned thinking he learned this whole song just for you. You took his hand climbed on the table. You interlocked his fingers with yours and kissed him. His face became red as he kissed you back passionately.

“Yes, I belong to you,” you smiled and whispered after you pulled away.

His face was now overwhelmed with joy. “Did you hear that?! She belongs to me!” he yelled excitedly.

“About time,” Albus said to Scorpius.

“Really. They both were totally whipped for each other since from first year and seriously it was getting annoyed seeing my sister swooning for him. My father will hear about this,” Scorpius replied.

“James Sirius Potter and Y/N Narcissa Malfoy, get down before I send owls at your houses,” Mcgonagall scolded but she too had a small smile on her face. And you both had to jump down because you didn’t want to receive howlers from your mothers.

“My parents are gonna love you,” James said.

“They already love me,” you said grinning.

“And how do you know?” he asked amused.

“Because I am the chosen one’s son’s ex-best friend and now girlfriend,” you teased and both of you laughed as you made your way to Gryffindor common room.

Who he really loves

Pairing: Harry Potter x Fem!Reader Summary - Who knew that one star-gazing night and a simple question could change everything?

Warnings: Super ‘fluffy’ (iykyk), very very little angst in between and as always my poor English :)

Word count - 1.3k

A/N: I've had this idea for a while so decided why not post it. So here it is. Hope y’all enjoy <3

_____________________________________________________________

The cold prickly grass was nipping at your arms and legs through your clothes as you laid down near the Black Lake, and warmth radiating from your side where Harry Potter laid. The light from the stars and moon was the only source of light. The dim lanterns of Hogwarts seemed like fairy lights.

It wasn't uncommon for you and your best friend Harry to sneak out of the castle at late nights, or in this case very early in the morning. At this time, it was 1.45 am. For the most part it would be a comfortable silence, you both star gazing, deep in thoughts, or small talks about random things.

You had always loved space and everything about stars because everything about them fascinated you. So while you two lay in the grass, you often looked at the constellations or wondered about moon and it never tired you.

"Um, Y/N?" Harry called breaking the silence. You hummed in response not taking your eyes off the night sky.

"I need your opinion on something. Something important." His voice wavered a little, so this had to be important if he was so nervous about it.

"Oh okay, go on," you said and waited for him to continue.

"So, um, well, I-I think I'm in- in love with two different people," he said not looking at you but the moon and placing his one arm behind his head like a pillow, "and I don't know who should I go after."

"Well," you paused not really knowing what to say as no one ever has asked you such type of question.

"Well, tell me about the first girl. What do you think of her, how you feel for her." You said quietly finally getting a head start.

"Well, I've know her since our first year but didn't really start talking to her until our last. She is really pretty and I do like her, and I want to protect her but I think these feelings that I have kind of shrunk, when I realized I liked the second one. I know I still I like her but not just as much as I used to," he finished slightly glancing towards you. You were thinking.

"If you don't like her as much as you used to do, why are you still hanging on?" you asked glancing at him as well.

The moonlight made your skin glow and your eyes got a nice twinkle to them, and that one glance made Harry's heart flutter.

"Because I think she is the only one I really have a chance with and can have a two-sided relationship." He turned his gaze back to the sky.

You thought even more. There were so many girls out there who would date him in a heartbeat. And okay, you included. Because even though you've tried to deny it, you had fallen for him. And you'd fallen hard. Very hard.

You were best friends for years and it just happened. Maybe because it was the way he looked, the way he smiled, the way he laughed, the way his hair would always be messy, you just couldn't help it.

But this isn't about you, it's about Harry.

"Okay, now tell me about the second one." You said slowly coming out if your thoughts.

His face turned pink, "I realized it only a couple of months ago, but I thought it was just a crush but I don't know when this crush became more. I'm friends with her, and the more I am with her I only fall for her more. But I don't know if she feels the same." He said his voice getting smaller and smaller.

"So you knew you liked-loved the first one, correct? But then you fell for the second one?" you glanced at him.

"Yeah." He said simply.

"Well, who do you think you should go for?" you ask looking back at the sky.

"Um, I think I should go for the first one, as I loved her first right? And I have more chances with her." He said with the same quiet voice. "But who do you think I should go after?" he asked his hands getting sweaty as he waited for your answer.

You thought for some more time and finally came to a conclusion.

"I think you should go for the... second girl." You said. Harry's heart bounced hearing you.

"Why do you think that?" he asked a little more quietly looking at you with pink face.

"Because you said you still loved the first one when you realized your feeling for second, right? So if you truly loved the first one, then why would you fall for second one?"

The only sounds that could be heard now were of the crickets, some owls, rustling of winds in the trees and water from the lake.

Harry laid there quietly, taking in every word you said. It all made sense now.

Why he would mostly be awkward with you, why he would mostly get nervous when you're around, why you were the only one who could make him smile even in his dark moments, why he would seek only your cuddles and sweet words whenever he would have a bad day.

Thoughts went through his head and then he realized. He was truly and unconditionally, deeply and undeniably, in love with you. He was in love with your smile, your laugh, your silly jokes, your personality. He was in love with everything about you.

He just thought he loved Ginny but it was you all along.

"Why did you ask me this, anyways?" you asked bringing him out of his thoughts.

"The first girl asked me out on a date and I wanted to know who I really wanted to be with before I said yes." He admitted. You felt something inside you by thinking of him being someone else.

"And have you made up your mind?" you asked looking at him.

He had a soft look in his eyes and even though the night was chilly on the December night, they still gave a warm look.

"Yeah, I'm going with girl two." He said casually.

"Really?" you asked with a teasing voice.

"Yeah, I'm gonna tell Ginny how I feel about her tomorrow." He said as he let out a deep breath.

Your heart sunk deep in your stomach when you heard him. Some tears came but you blinked them back. Was Ginny the girl he loved?

"You- your in l-love with G-Ginny?" you asked trying to sound as casual as possible.

"No, she was girl one. She asked me out earlier today and I'll tell her tomorrow what I feel about her." He replied.

You were somewhat relieved hearing this but still worried who this second girl might be. He can love whoever he wants and it couldn't be possibly you right? You didn't stand a chance. But maybe you could help him get with her if you knew who she was. Then he would be happy. And that was all you wanted.

"So who's the second?" you asked your heart beating faster than ever.

Harry softly smiled to himself and looked at you. The smile never left his face. His green eyes glistening behind his round glasses from moonlight and his messy hair all over his forehead, you couldn't help but stare with pink cheeks.

"You."

Serie Charlie Weasley

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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

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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

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Word Count: 281

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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

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

Word Count: 2.1k+

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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

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Warning: None :)

Word Count: 1.6k+

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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