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The Weight of the World

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Febuwhump Prompt - "Please don't do this."

Prompt - “Because he's a hero, darling, and when do they ever get a happy ending?”

You felt sweat pouring off you as you leant against the wall, panting for breath as your eyes stared at the door just in time to see it slam shut, trapping the uncontrollable flames caused by Fiendfyre behind them. You gripped your wand tightly in your hand as you forced yourself to take a deep breath, knowing you still had a long night ahead of you.

“It’s the snake,” Harry said, causing your gaze to snap over to him, Ron and Hermione looking down at him as he sat with his back to the wall. “She’s the last one, it’s the last horcrux.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words, finally knowing the last horcrux, finally the end was in sight but you knew she wouldn’t be easy to destroy, the other horcruxes had been spread out buut Nagini, you knew Voldemort kept her close at all times and even if you managed to kill her there was still Voldemort.

“Look inside him, Harry.” Ron said, kneeling down next to his friend and you made your way over to them too, sitting next to Harry and taking his hand in yours, giving it a gentle squeeze as you shoved your own emotions down. Harry was exhausted, he was a boy thrust into a new world that had already decided his fate for him before he was born. You needed to be brave for him now and forced a smile onto your face, watching as he relaxed slightly and listened to Ron. “Find out where he is. If we find him, we find the snake. Then we’re one step closer to ending this.”

Harry closed his eyes, his face contorting in pain as he winced and you hated that you could do nothing to help him, nothing to make any of this easier. You could only sit there, shooting a scared glance to Ron who nodded at you, all of you desperate for this night to end.

You felt Harry tense beside you, breathing heavily as he watched whatever Voldemort was doing, trying to figure out where he was. He finally let out a shuddering breath, sounding scared as his eyes fluttered open. The three of you waited as he collected himself, taking a deep breath before he turned to you, seeking comfort from you as he squeezed your hand almost desperately. You forced yourself to smile again and watched as he nodded at you, swallowing against the lump in throat.

“I know where he is.” He told you all and you were all quick to stand, Harry not letting go of your hand until you were running down stairs that led to the court yard and you both needed to fire spell after spell against the death eaters. You went to round the corner but Harry grabbed your arm and pulled you into his chest, holding you close as a green curse shot past you causing you to let out a scared gasp, looking up at him with wide eyes that showed your fear clearly.

“Thank you,” You breathed out and he couldn’t help but smile down at you.

“Don’t mention it.” He said, watching as Ron dealt with the death eater before you all rounded the corner together, Harry kept you behind him and seconds later he grabbed your hand as you froze, staring up at the giant in horror and if not for Harry pulling you along you would have been crushed under the quidditch post it held.

You all made your way past it, somehow, freezing again as you saw the werewolf, Greyback your mind supplied, feasting on Lavender Brown. A silent sob wracked your body as you turned away just as Hermione shot a spell at the wolf and you all ran forward again, making your way down to the boat house.

You all made your way through the building as silently as you could, hiding as you watched Voldemort and Professor Snape talk alone in the room and from your position, still behind Harry, you could see Nagini slithering across the floor.

You watched as Voldemort circled Snape, hand reaching out to grip Harry’s jacket as you listened to the conversation, stomach twisting as you realised where the conversation was heading and sure Snape had never been your favourite person, had done a lot of questionable things over the years but nobody deserved the punishments Voldemort deemed fit.

Harry glanced away from the scene in front of him, turned towards you and pulled you closer to him. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you against him and he could feel your fingers digging into his jacket even tighter, not looking away from Snape or Voldemort. Harry rested his head against yours as he turned back too.

You watched Snape’s face, eyes falling shut as he too realised what was happening and jumped as you heard a tearing sound before you saw Snape’s body fall to the ground. Harry jumped too but managed to cover your mouth with his hand just as you gasped in horror, pressing you further against him to conceal the noise.

You heard the hissed words from Voldemort and despite not understanding them you still flinched. Harry, however, understood the order to kill completely and flinched himself but he wasn’t able to look away as Nagini continued to lunge for the man, holding you against his chest and not letting you pull away.

He waited until Voldemort disappeared from the room before he squeezed you tightly in his arms, almost as if he was reassuring himself that you were still alive, before he placed a lingering kiss to your forehead and shifted you so Hermione held you instead.

You all entered the room, you, Ron and Hermonie staying near the door as Harry knelt next to Snape, collecting his tears before you all froze. You watched as Hermonie crouched on the floor, covering her ears to try and block the noise out, Ron and Harry gripped the walls to stay upright as the room seemed to tremble and you winced, tilting your head as the voice seemed to consume every inch of you.

“You have fought valiantly but in vain,” the voice hissed out, “I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured.”

You made your way over to Harry who pulled you against him again, leaning heavily against the wall as he frowned at Voldermort’s words.

“Harry Potter, I speak directly to you.” He said, causing you to tilt your gaze up to Harry who was already looking down at you. “On this night you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me. There is no greater dishonour. Join me in the Forbidden Forest and confront your fate. Should you do so I give you my word that no other life will be lost on this night. You have one hour. If, at the end of that time, you have not given yourself up, then I shall punish every last man, woman and child who tries to conceal you from me.”

You were already shaking your head up at Harry before Voldemort had even finished speaking, Harry looking down at you, suddenly looking like he was carrying the weight of the world and he was about to collapse under the pressure.

“You’re not going.” You told Harry shakily and Harry leaned down to press his forehead against you before glancing down at the flask of memories in his hand.

“Come on.” He says to you all, not saying anything else as he makes his way out of the room, you under his arm and Ron and Hermonie following close behind as you make your way back up to the courtyard, looking around and feeling chills at the emptiness.

Ron pushed the doors to the castle open, the four of you glancing around at all the injured people who were being healed as you made your way over to the Great Hall. You watched Ron pause in the doorway, eyes locked on the group of redheads before they zeroed in on Fred who lay motionless on the floor.

You felt your jaw drop, a huff of disbelief escaping you as you stepped closer to the group, tears welling up in your eyes as you stared down at Fred, expecting him to open his eyes at any second, wanting it to just be a terribly, horrible joke.

You felt like hours had passed before you finally turned away from Fred’s body, seeking out Harry, your stomach dropping when you saw he wasn’t there. Your eyes darted around the room, hoping he just needed a moment to himself but you knew that wasn’t the case. Harry hated everything about this war, a war he hadn’t volunteered for, a war that was forced upon him as a child, a war where he would take the burden of every death that occured. You knew he would do anything to stop it, even if it meant giving his life.

“No,” You said as you turned from the room but Hermione stopped you, her hand reaching over Ginny to grab your arm.

“Y/N,” She began causing everyone to look over at you, tears falling uncontrollably down your face as you shook your head.

“Let go of me.” You said, surprised by how dangerously calm your tone was. “I’m not losing him, I’ll kill Voldemort myself.”

Hermione’s lips twitched upwards into a smile but it didn’t meet her eyes as she stepped around Ginny and over to you but before she could speak you cut her off.

“I’m going.” You told her, pulling your arm out of her hold and turning to leave the room, storming out of the room and stumbling down the stairs with every intention of walking into the Forbidden Forest, no matter what was to come.

“Y/N!” You heard Ron calling, running forward and stopping you with his hands on your shoulders, Hermione coming up behind him, all of you missing Harry who stood at the top of the stairs, taking a moment to just watch you all, listening to what was being said. “He’ll kill you.”

“Let him try.” You said and Harry hated the coldness in your tone, hated that you had been dragged right into the middle of the war even though he knew you’d curse him for even thinking that, knew you wouldn’t let him blame himself but how could he not?

“Harry,” Hermione gasped as he heard footsteps, darting around to see Harry walking down the stairs. Your own head snapped around and you choked out a gasp as you pulled away from Ron and ran up the stairs into Harry’s arms.

“I thought you’d gone to him.” You cried against his chest and Harry felt his throat close up, he couldn’t speak. He buried his face in your hair, holding you close and savouring the feeling, memorising everything about the way you felt in his arms and he fought against the tears that pricked his eyes.

“Where’ve you been?” Hermione asked worriedly as Ron turned to face him with concern clear across his face.

“Yeah, we thought you’d gone to the forest-” Ron began but Harry cut him off.

“I’m going there now.” He told you all and you pulled away from him straight away, glaring up at him though the effect was ruined by the steady stream of tears as both you and Ron protested.

“You’re not going!” You snapped just as Ron told him he couldn’t.

“I have too,” He said, looking into your eyes but you just shook your head, not hearing him out. You couldn’t lose him, you just couldn’t. “It’s meant to be.”

“Rubbish!” Ron exclaimed as you sniffed.

“Harry please,” You begged with him and he hated seeing you like this, he wanted nothing more than for this to be over, to take you far away from here but he knew that was impossible, he knew that even after this he probably would never see you again.

“What is it, Harry? What do you know?” Hermione asked him before you could say anything else and you looked at Harry questioningly.

“There’s a reason I can... hear them -- the Horcruxes.I think I’ve known for a while.” He said, glancing from Hermione, to Ron and finally settling his gaze on you. “I think we all knew.”

Harry watched as your eyes fell shut before you took a deep breath.

“Okay,” You said with a nod, “let’s go then.”

You made your way down the stairs, missing the looks the trio shot between them. Despite everything though Harry couldn’t help but smile as he watched you, shoulders pushed back, head held high, determined to do this.

“Y/N,” He said, jogging down to you and stopping you, wiping the tears only for them to be replaced instantly. “You can’t come.”

“You go, I go.” You told him, your voice shaking as you watched him shake his head.

“You can’t come,” He repeated and felt his heart ache as you sobbed before he pulled you into a tight hug.

“Please don’t do this.” You begged him, the words muffled against his chest but he heard them clearly. “Please don’t go.”

“Hey,” He said, taking a deep breath before he pulled away from you despite everything telling him not to, telling him to hold you tightly and not let go. “Everything’s going to be ok.”

You shook your head at his words, sobbing as you pleaded with him silently.

“You don’t have to do this alone.” You told him, watching as his forced smile quivered.

“Yes I do,” He told you softly and your eyes fell shut, desperately trying to hold back more tears but they just kept falling. Harry knew what he had to do, it was the only way to make sure everyone was safe, to make sure you were safe.

He reached his hand up to cup your cheek, brushing at the tears before he pulled you close and brought your lips together. The kiss was messy and desperate, both of you trying to convey what couldn’t be spoken, words that there wasn't enough time for because somebody had decided long ago how Harry’s future would turn out and heroes hardly ever got a happy ending.

“I love you, Y/N/N.” He whispered as he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours, hating the sob that left your lips as you nodded against him, scrunching your eyes shut.

“Harry,” You choked out but then he felt a small shake of your head, barely there but he felt it, “I love you too.”

Harry leaned in, pressing one last kiss against your lips, savouring the moment before he forced himself to pull away, turning to Ron and Hermione and pulling them both into a tight hug.

“Kill the snake,” He whispered to them, feeling them nod against him, “Kill the snake and then it’s just him. Then it will be over.”

With those words Harry turned and walked away, the three of you watching as he went. When he disappeared you let yourself crumble, falling to your knees as sobs wracked your body and there was a pain in your chest words couldn’t describe.

All you could do now was wait.

You were sitting on the stairs finally all cried out and feeling numb to your core as you watched people move around you but didn’t register much, not until you heard Ginny speak.

“Who's that Hagrid’s carrying?” It was an innocent question but it had your stomach dropping and you felt your blood run cold as your head snapped up before you stood from your seat as people flooded out of the castle.

You ignored them all as you took two steps forward before silently gasping as you knew exactly who Hagrid was carrying and felt your knees buckle but somehow managed to stay upright as you looked towards Harry’s lifeless body.

“Harry Potter,” Voldemort announced, glee in his tone and you felt your blood switch from cold to boiling hot as anger bubbled in your veins, “is dead!”

Seamus was closest to you and he noticed you move half a second too late, his fingers skimming your arm as you lunged forward, wand raised as you shot a curse towards Voldemort who easily reflected it.

Voldemort didn’t even get a chance to retaliate, Bellatrix sending a curse that stung your entire body and forced you onto your knees and you couldn’t do anything but slump down, tears you thought had long since ran out coming back with full force seeming to echo around the courtyard.

“Idiot girl,” Voldemort snarled at you before he continued his speech, “Harry Potter is dead!” He called out again and you felt your fists clench as his side laughed, Bellatrix’s cackle sending a shiver down your spine.

You listened as Neville stood up to Voldemort and couldn’t help but feel anger towards him at his words.

“It doesn’t matter that Harry is gone,” His words had you standing on shaky legs, your wand gripped tightly in your hand as Ron grabbed your other arm, holding you in place. “People die everyday. Friends. Family. Yes, we lost Harry tonight. But he’s still with us and so is Fred and Remus and Tonks and... all of them. They didn’t die in vain but you will.”

The anger left you as you managed a smile over in Neville’s direction, trying to figure out the moment that scared kid in first year had turned into a man that had the courage to stand up to Lord Voldemort himself. Your eyes widened as he withdrew the Sword of Gryffindor from the sorting hat before you saw movement from the corner of your eye turning just in time to see Harry roll out of Hagrid’s arms causing you to let out a sob of relief before Ron pulled you back as spells started flying around the courtyard.

“Potter!” You and Ron turned to see Draco tossing Harry a wand, his wand.

“Well done, Malfoy!” Ron yelled before looking over to you with a grimace. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

You couldn’t help but watch as Harry grabbed the wand with those seeker reflexes of his and without missing a beat turned to fire spell after spell on Voldermort.

Just as a stone wall exploded, Harry manages to make his way over to you and Ron, Neville not too far away. You let your hand touch Harry’s arm despite how much you wanted to throw your arms around him you knew it’d have to wait.

“We’ve got to kill the snake!” Harry told you both urgently, all three of you missing as Neville looked from the sword over to the snake before he was thrown back with a curse from Voldemort himself as he tried to do what Harry needed.

Ron grabbed your hand, nodding at Harry as he pulled you back into the castle, holding you tight despite your attempt to break free and stay with Harry as Voldemort led his army into Hogwarts.

“C’mon,” He yelled at you and you winced as you heard part of the castle crumble, desperately looking around but lost Harry easily. “Find the snake.” He said to you and you nodded as you dodged a curse.

You watched frozen in place as the snake turned on you and Ron, watching it rise to its full height, hissing at the two of you before you huffed out a breath as it darted past you, the three of you shooting each other confused glances but followed it down, letting it lead you back to the courtyard, Ron pulling you and Hermoine down, his arms wrapped around you both as the snake lunged for you only to be stopped by Neville.

You panted for breath as you stared at Neville in amazement before your head snapped over to Harry just in time to see him and Voldemort fire spells at the same time. Harry’s red spell meeting Voldermort’s green one as they battled against each other and you could do nothing but stare, holding your breath as you waited for something.

You watched in shock as Voldemort’s wand was ripped from his hand as it flew over to Harry before Voldemort screamed as he died before your eyes and you couldn’t stop the shuddering sobbed that spread throughout your whole body as you realised it was over.

Harry had won.

Happy, overwhelmingly happy tears ran down your face as you ran across the courtyard into Harry’s arms. Harry easily caught you and laughed disbelievingly into your shoulder as he nuzzled into you, still in shock.

“You did it!” You exclaimed, pulling back and smashing your lips against his in a messy and heated kiss, hands tangling in messy hair as he dug his fingers into your waist. “You won!”

“It’s over.” He told you, sounding as breathless as you felt.

“It’s over.” You confirmed and smiled as he leaned down to kiss you again this time it was softer, his fingers spreading across your waist instead of digging in and your grip on his hair loosened so you were caressing the dark locks.

Harry pulled away and rested his forehead against yours and you couldn’t help but smile at the disbelief written across his face.

“It’s over.” You repeated once more watching as he sagged against you, the weight of the world finally falling from his shoulders.

Harry took your hand in his leading you back towards the ruined castle, it was a strange feeling walking through the Great Hall, seeing all the injured people. You felt Harry squeeze your hand as Ron and Hermione rounded the corner, their hands tangled together and you all grinned at each other before walking out of the castle and onto the bridge.

You listened as Harry explained just why the wand didn’t answer to Voldemort and watched as Ron put the pieces together.

“You possess the Elder Wand?” You asked, laughing in disbelief because of course Harry Potter possessed all three of the Deathly Hallows. Harry grinned over at you knowing exactly what you were thinking. “Of course you have the most powerful wand in the world.” The two of you laughing with each other for the first time in a long time.

It felt good.

“What are you going to do with it?” Hermione asked and you looked at him with wide eyes as he snapped it in half before your eyes softened and you smiled over at him, wrapping your arms around his waist and laying your head against his back.

“It’s finally over.” You whispered the words, only meant for him and he smiled over his shoulder at you, his eyes soft as he did because he really didn’t think he’d get another second with you and he didn’t intend to waste any time he had been given.

The weight of the world was off his shoulders, he’d played his part and somehow he had made it out alive with his best friends at his side and you next to him the whole time, even if it meant you were willing to march to certain death.

He turned around, cupping your cheek in his hand and brushed his thumb across your cheekbone, glad to see there were no tears. He leaned down, not rushing, there was no need to rush any more, and pressed his lips to yours.

It was probably the softest kiss the two of you had shared, slow and romantic, not rushed for time, not needing to get across words that neither of you dared speak out into the world. Just the two of you together with all the time in the world.

Harry intended to make the most of every moment he had with you.

___________

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^this was me the entire fucking time Remus was visiting and when Harry spoke about wanting more time? *dead* And I felt it when y/n looked at the pictures on the wall and broke ughhh this whole series is just chefs kiss I love it😭😭❤

❝time will tell.❞

[credits to the original artist of the photo!! can't seem to find their @ anywhere. title is taken from jane austen's persuasion, as was the first part.]

summary. ❝you are loved. and harry thinks there is no better description that that.❞

pairing/s. poly!mauraders x reader. (james potter x reader, sirius black x reader, lily evans x reader, and remus lupin x reader.)

word count. 9.5k.

tags. reader is referred to mum, with she/her pronouns[!], canon-typical violence [!], canon-typical deaths mentioned[!], very brief marauders as soldiers of the order[!], creepy old men being creepy[!], child abuse[!], pureblood arranged marriages, a minor character expresses wanting to die[!], Depressed and Traumatized Slytherins, the capital is important[!], themes of misogyny [!], teen boys fuck around and find out there are consequences to their actions, THERE IS ACTUALLY A LOT OF FLUFF, I PROMISE YOU, angst, children lose their baby teeth up until the age of twelve!! google said so!! not proofread we die like dobby the free elf

note. damn, i cried, you cried, we all crode. tbh, the first part was only intended as a oneshot, sdfkhdf, but when i re-read it, i thought that i could have expanded on more details,, so now here we are!! i love it more than the first part ueueue. thank you all so so so much for the kind comments :((( please please enjoy the second part to this installment!! part one

HARRY JAMES POTTER was only a few months old when you died at the hands of Voldemort — or as strangers have told him every time they ravaged his personal space and ogled at his scar. They said it was a quick death, better than what had happened to Alice and Frank Longbottom. But that was all they’ve ever said about your death. Unfortunate; caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, entirely different from the pedestal James and Lily have been put on by the wizarding society. 

At first, Harry had wondered if it was due to your blood relations, being the daughter of a renowned Death-Eater, heiress to the fortune of a pureblood House. Harry can’t even count the amount of conspiracy theories he’s read or heard to his face that it must have been you who betrayed James and Lily, and not Sirius Black. 

Even Hermione’s shared to him a theory that your death was faked to surrender your loyalty completely to Voldemort — of course, Hermione was eleven at the time, head full of books and her favorite theories, and Harry’s already forgiven her. But there’s a part of him that despises the way he’s never known the full truth about his parents, just bits of information dangled in front of him like bait for people [read: the Dursleys] to get him to do what they want, to act like the way they want. Until Remus and Sirius, you were a stranger to him, really.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

IT IS RATHER UNFORTUNATE that Madam Pince has already taken her position as the unbearable librarian at this point in time. The woman gives Harry and you a pointed look as you slam the large book onto one of the tables — to Harry’s surprise, you glare right back at her. You’re awfully flushed, however, blushing cheeks betraying the fire in your eyes; it must have been from when Remus escorted the two of you to the library; he had tried to brush your hand with his pinky, to which you had responded with a startled hiss — Remus only smiled and chuckled at you, and Harry swears he’d like to forget that entire interaction because he saw literal stars in Remus’s eyes.

Jumping back in time and potentially causing chaos? Fun. 

Meeting your parents? Definitely fun, in the strangest of ways. 

But watching them pine and fall for each other? Not so fun. 

Nonetheless, he hesitantly takes the seat across yours and watches you flip through the pages until you land on a chapter with the large, bold letters: THE CURIOUS CASE OF ELOISE MINTUMBLE — Time-Travel and Its Many Dangers. He meets your gaze with a sheepish grin, mustering a look of innocence; except the puppy dog eyes only worked when he was nine — you are not amused. 

You slide the book towards him, scarily resembling Molly Weasley when she’s miffed with the twins. “You are aware, right, that just by existing here you’ve changed the future? Your future? And, that’s not even the worst thing that could happen.” 

Harry sulks. “Yes, mum.” He prefers not to think about it, actually, it makes his head hurt. 

“Don’t call me that in public!” You whisper heatedly, looking over your shoulder to check if anyone had heard him — to your luck, the library was empty, save for a Hufflepuff that was passed out on top of his books. “The less people that know about this, the better. It’s bad enough we told Potter about you. Do you even know what you’re going to do?” 

“Considering I was thrown here against my will, no.” Harry shrugs. “And to be honest, I was just going to obliviate the people who asked too many questions.”

You reach over to smack his head, scowling.

“Ow! That hurt!” Harry rubs the sore spot as he grumbles petulantly. “This is technically child abuse, did you know that?” 

You roll your eyes. “Do you at least have a plan to get home?” 

“Of course I do,” Harry retorts with a scoff, “Her name is Hermione Granger.” 

“Hopeless.” You groan exasperatedly. “Absolutely hopeless.” 

Harry only grins in response. For a brief moment, he forgets about the present — his reality where the skies are bleak and home is where he knows the feeling of loss more than the warmth of his own parents’ embrace. He lets himself forget, and pretends he isn’t the Boy Who Lived. Just some random boy who’s pestering his mother — even if she likes to deny the inevitability of being romanced by the Marauders, (except for Wormtail because Harry would eat troll slime before he ever lets that happen.)

“Right then,” You say after your tangent — which Harry tuned out when he hears the words, be responsible. “If I’m going to help you get back home—” 

Harry’s heart drops to his stomach; as selfishly as it sounds, he didn’t want to go home just yet — not to where people just took and took from him. He’s exhausted. Still, he puts up a front of being excited to be returned to his timeline. It’s for the greater good, of course, because his existence — present or past — is always somehow a threat to the wizarding society. 

“—you need to answer this one question for me.” Your voice drops lower as you stare at him intently, lips pressed firmly. 

Harry nods slowly. “As long as it’s within reason, yeah.” 

You inhale sharply. “Do I outlive Dolores Umbridge?” 

The wince escapes Harry before he can even stop it. 

That’s all the answer you need, apparently. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as you slam your hands down onto the table surface, shrieking.

“That slimy bitch!” 

Needless to say, the two of you are kicked out of the library.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1970; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

YOU ARE ELEVEN when your father introduces you to Ferguson, commonly known as Fergus, Bulstrode. He smiles at you with a leer, eyes hungrily dipping to the neckline of your dress. You grit your teeth as you hold out your hand for him to take — you almost shudder at the feel of his lips on your cheek. You eagerly take a step back away from him, hoping your father won’t notice the way you shy from Ferguson’s touch. You’re not dull, you fully understand the implications of this introduction and the way Ferguson is complaining to you about his third wife’s passing — as if you were the solution to his loneliness. Bile rises to your throat, and you shove it down with a forced laugh at your father’s jokes about Mudbloods. From across the room, Allegra Greengrass stares at you in sympathy, and you send her a glare — you do not need anyone’s pity. 

The corset your mother laced on too tight is suffocating you; this whole Yule extravaganza made for elitist purebloods is suffocating you; and yet, you smile and greet every red-lipped witch your mother introduces you to. For hours, you pretend, and you pretend. By the time the guests have left, you wonder if you have any more of yourself to give. 

You manage to convince your mother to let you slip away for the night. Without missing a beat, you rush outside and into the garden labyrinth, lest old Ferguson snatches you up for a dance and let his gaze wander elsewhere. For the first time since the sun had set, your aching feet finally find some relief. You drop onto the edge of the stone fountain as you toss your heels to the side. You begin working your fingers through your hair, ripping the glittery ribbons from your head. It’s not until you’re unclasping your necklace that you realize you are crying. Tears fall from your eyes, and they sink deep into the fabric of your dress. 

You barely hold back your sobs. Your chest heaves as you hiccup; your vision goes blurry as your fingers grow numb. There’s nothing you can do but cry. 

You’ve used up all your smiles for tonight. 

But then, the sadness turns into resentment and then turns into indignation. Harshly, you wipe the tears from your eyes as you rip a violent scream from your throat. 

You sink to the ground, perfectly polished nails digging into the soil as you gather patches of grass and tear them from the roots. You throw a handful of mud at the marble statues. You grab another fistful of mud, scream, then bash your head against the garden floor. You let out another cry, whimpering as you curl into yourself; shivering as a gust of wind brushes against your skin. Surprisingly enough, this is the most human you’ve ever felt. This is the most you have ever felt — period. 

When hiccups regress into soft sniffles, you lay on your back, watching the stars float above. As the last of your tears slide down your cheek, you lift a shaky hand to trace the constellation in the sky. It’s not a familiar one to you, but then— 

“That’s Sirius.” 

You sit upright in a snap, wiping away the wetness from your eyes as you muster a mean glare at the newcomer.

Sirius Black.

“Oh, none of that,” He tells you when you move to stand. There’s barely any emotion on his face and it irks you that you can’t figure out what he’s planning. What you don’t expect is for him to sit beside you, thereby ruining his expensively tailored suit. 

“You’ll get creases,” You scold him instinctively, nose scrunched — but your voice is hoarse; too tired to put up any pretences. “Your mother will be cross with you.” 

Sirius scoffs, laying his head on the dirt, making sure to smear his sleeves with grass stains. “Walburga can go fall in a ditch and die for all I care.”

You gasp. “That’s horrible!” 

Sirius gives you a look. “You don’t believe that.” 

You really don’t, but you don’t have the courage to admit it either. 

After a few moments of silence, Sirius asks, raising a brow, “So who was that?”

“Who was who?” You stare at him with knitted brows, toying with your fingers. You still can’t wrap your head around how weird this is — sitting with Sirius Black in the middle of your mother’s hedge maze, your once bright blue dress now sullied at the ruffles, eyes bloodshot and your hair a frizzy mess. (Sirius thinks you look cute, though; especially with your missing front tooth that peeks out every time you talk to him.) 

“Bald guy, older than Merlin himself.” Sirius makes a face. “Looks like a troll. Smells like one, too.”

A giggle flutters past your lips, and your hands fly to your mouth. You really shouldn’t be bad-mouthing your guests, but Sirius was right — Ferguson really did act like an ugly troll. You sigh, letting your arms fall to your side. “My betrothed.” 

Sirius nods in understanding. “My mother tried to set me up with my own cousin once.” 

You grimace. “Which cousin?” 

He sits on his knees to face you, and with a very solemn face, he says, “Bellatrix.”

This time, you laugh freely, throwing your head back as Sirius pouts at your amusement. “O-Oh, that’s golden.” 

“No, it’s not,” says Sirius, lips twitching as he watches you snort like a pig through your giggles. “It’s horrible. A literal nightmare. You should feel awful for me.” He pokes your stomach, and it just makes you laugh harder, eyes disappearing into your smile. “Oi. I said feel awful, not take the piss out of me.” 

“S-Sorry.” You wheeze, batting away his hand pulling at your cheek. “I just can’t imagine Bellatrix in a white wedding dress and saying her vows to you.”

“That’s disgusting.” Sirius gags. “You’re horrible, I hope you know that.” 

When you finally calm down and Sirius tickles your bare feet until you cry in surrender, the two of you lay on the grass as he points out each constellation to you. Later, he fishes a small box of sugar mice from his pocket and offers it to you, opening one for himself. “Here’s to shitty parents and the one day we get to decide our own future.” 

You bump your squeaky candy mice against his. “Cheers, Black.” 

“Will you go to Hogwarts next year?” He asks you once he’s bitten off the tail of his mice. 

You nod. 

Sirius shifts on his side, holding his pinky out to you. “We’ll be friends when school starts?”

Again, you nod, wrapping your pinky around his. “Friends.” 

The next September comes, Sirius finds a compartment and one James Potter in it. You sit with Allegra Greengrass and Endora Lestrange on the way to Hogwarts. You are sorted into Slytherin, and Sirius finds freedom and a home in Gryffindor. You play the role created just for you; you lift your nose at those beneath you, adorn yourself in custom-made silk clothing, and carry yourself with the etiquette of a pure-blooded lady. Perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect clothes, always picture perfect.

You pretend that Allegra doesn’t throw up in the evenings from the fear of getting married to a man twice her age. You pretend that you don’t notice Endora sleep-walking and begging for her mother to save her from her father. You pretend that under your blankets, in the Slytherin dungeon, you are safe. 

You pretend that it doesn’t hurt when Sirius looks at you in disappointment when you shove a Hufflepuff student to the ground for getting a higher score than you in Charms.

They call you an ice-princess behind your back, and you overhear some of the fifth-years calling you foul words as well, and no one steps in to stop them; there’s no defending a Slytherin, after all. But you are keeping your head above treacherous waters, and you suppose that is all that matters.) 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“SO ACCORDING TO THIS, Eloise was stuck in 1402 for five days until she was retrieved to the present, which means we only have four days left to figure out a way for you to get back home.” 

Harry sinks into his chair, arms crossed over his chest. The two of you had found an empty classroom to discuss your plans away from inquisitive ears. “What’s the rush?” It’s unfair, he’d only just met you, and now he’s losing time with you. 

You sigh. “Harry, Eloise Mintumble spent five days in the past and when she came back, her body aged five centuries, and she died in St. Mungos. It’s not just about altering the whole timeline, you could actually die.” 

When you are met only with silence, you close the book, frowning. “Harry? What’s wrong?” 

Harry swallows the lump in his throat, looking out the window to avoid your gaze. “What do you know about the Mirror of Erised?” 

Your head tilts in confusion. “That it shows our heart’s deepest desire.” 

“Yeah,” says Harry, nodding. “I was eleven when I found it.” 

“Oh, Harry. . .” 

It’s almost pathetic how quickly his eyes water. “Did you know, before today, I hadn’t known at all what your voice sounded like?” 

You stay quiet, and Harry sucks in a shaky breath. 

“When I looked into the mirror, I saw my parents—all of you. There I was, in the middle. You were behind me—happy.” Harry swipes a tear from his eye. “I wanted to stay in that room, stare at that mirror forever.”

“It’s—”

“Dangerous, I know.” He laughs bitterly. “Just like finally being able to meet you all here.”

“Harry, you aren’t supposed to be here in the first place,” You say quietly, eyes drooping sadly. 

“I know that!” He exclaims desperately. “But is it so selfish to just want some time? I don’t want an illusion, I want the real thing. A real family. Why can’t I have that? Bloody Malfoy gets everything he wants, and what do I have?” 

“Your friends,” You tell him firmly. “Your friends who must be worried sick that you’re gone and must be going great lengths to bring you back.” 

“I know.” Harry wilts. He’s got Remus at home, too, who probably needs him more than ever after Sirius’s death. “I know. But can’t I just have this one thing?” 

You purse your lips for a moment, brows furrowed in thought. Then, you break the silence with: “Do you want to hear a story?”

“What?” Harry croaks, peering at you through wet lashes. 

Shrugging, you say, “Stories to remember us by. I’ve got six years worth of stories and then some. I know it’s not much, and you’ve probably heard some of these already from the others in the future, but it’s better than nothing, right?” You lean against the back of your chair, glancing at the wall clock before grinning at Harry. “We’ve got time to spare, anyway.” 

Harry manages a smile, setting down his glasses before rubbing his stinging eyes with the handkerchief you offer him. He figures this is what Remus means when you’re the gentlest creature he’s ever known — just not gentle in what the world expects you to be. 

“What do you say, Harry? I give you tidbits of the past, and you tell me if you know anything about the next Triwizard champion, so I can place my bets in advance.”  

Harry snickers. “Not a chance, mum.” 

“Worth a try.” And the smile you give him is nearly blinding. 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1977; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND what it is about Gryffindors and their hobby of invading others’ personal space. 

A year into dating and James likes to shove his head under your shirt, claiming he loves the sound of your heartbeat — but you know really what he wants to nestle his head in between. The amount of cashmere blouses he’s ruined is absurd! Sirius has a hobby of tracing runes on the plane of your stomach. Lily prefers it when you sit in front of her, just within reach where she can wrap her arms around you and rest her head on your shoulder. Remus tends to lag behind the group when he notices you walking slower due to your leg flaring up. He kisses the side of your head and promises to chase the pain away — sappy poetic that he is. And in the moments where all five of you are together, tucked under a wide alcove, you can best believe there is no escaping what they like to call, a cuddle pile. Limbs are tangled, kisses are shared, and confessions of love are whispered. 

Before them, you hadn’t really known the different ways to love and be loved. 

Onto the pressing matters at hand, you discover that the brazen show of affection extends to their parents as well. Particularly, the Potters. After a year, you finally caved into James’s requests for you to spend the holidays at their manor, since the others have already made a space for themselves there, and James had said it would be an honor for you to feel at home with his parents, too. Honestly, you spoil them too much — one look into his bright, wide eyes and you gave in. James didn’t even care that you brought two luggages for clothes alone; he lifted each bag with delight and with ease. 

(Remus had the audacity to laugh when he caught you and Sirius staring at James’s flexed muscles, mouth wide open. 

“As I have said, Remus Lupin, I do not drool!”

“Sure, dove, whatever you say.”)

But now, you really aren’t so sure of your decision. 

“Oh, she’s beautiful, Jamie!” Euphemia encases you in a bear hug the moment you step inside the manor. You’re engulfed in the scent of cinnamon and burnt sugar. You stiffen as she cradles your face in between her palms, smiling ever so fondly at you, cooing about how precious you look, much like a mother would — and how your mother never did. You wonder if this is what you’ve been missing all along — the thought stabs you right in the heart. “Please excuse the mess, dear, we haven’t had the chance to clean up yet, Monty and I are excited to try the recipe Lily owled to us the other day, you see.” 

“I-It’s okay,” You rasp, struggling to hold back the tears. 

“Oh, what a darling you are!” Euphemia smiles and ushers you further inside. “Come, come. The others are right upstairs. You must be tired from the train ride. It is so lovely to finally meet you. Make yourself at home, dear heart — James Fleamont Potter! Give your mama a kiss this instant! Don’t think introducing your girlfriend will distract me from the fact you didn’t owl me letters for two months straight!” 

James whines as he hides behind you. “Mum, I’m seventeen, stop embarrassing me.” 

Euphemia scoffs, hands snapping to her hips. “You’re going to be my baby boy forever, now come here.” 

With a shy smile, you step away to surrender James to his mother — you don’t understand which part of this is embarrassing; you wish for a mum who’d welcome you home like that, with unconditional love and kind eyes. James squawks and calls you a traitor, just before his mum attacks him with loud, exaggerated kisses to his cheek, leaving lipstick stains all over his face. You hide a laugh behind your palm, ignoring the way your heart pangs at the sight of their unrestrained smiles. Euphemia lets her son go after a few more seconds, cackling at the masterpiece she’s created on a grumbling James, who’s rubbing his skin to erase his mother’s affections. She hugs you once more before setting you off, telling you to meet Fleamont after you’ve unpacked. 

Just as you reach the foot of the stairs, you hear a girlish squeal, then the sound of rapid footfall against each wooden step. Lily greets the two of you by jumping off the last step and wrapping each arm around yours and James’s neck. “Welcome home, Jamie!” She captures his lips with her own before doing the same to you, cupping your cheek lovingly, “So happy you made it, princess! How was the ride here?” 

You were never a fan of traveling by Floo; it made you nauseous after, and left you with a pounding headache for hours. Without hesitation, the others offered to accompany you on the train, but you insisted they Floo ahead to Godric’s Hollow — it took a lot of convincing, but they finally agreed, (they’re not the only ones spoiled; they couldn’t refuse you, too.) With the exception of James, who wanted to be there when you saw his home for the first time. You nearly cried when you saw how well-loved their manor was; rose shrubs dipped in snow, Sirius’s motorcycle parked outside, a mailbox with poorly painted shapes, the fences covered in Christmas lights, and the amount of shoes by the door. From outside, you could hear the laughter and warm conversations. 

“It was fine,” You say in a daze.

Lily sees right through you — and frowns sadly. “You alright?” 

Were you? 

You catch sight of the moving photographs of James and you finally reach your breaking point. There’s a swell in your throat that you can’t seem to push down. There’s a photo of James, Lily, Remus and Sirius; James is in his Quidditch jersey, raising the Golden Snitch high up in the air, Remus is twirling Lily, his arms around her waist, and Sirius is holding up a charmed banner that says: Gryffindor Rules! Slytherin Sucks! Except For My Darling Angel Love Of My Life Most Beautiful And Gorgeous Perfect Brilliant Girlfriend! 

There are hints of life all around the manor. Remus’s textbooks and scarf are laid by the coffee table. Lily’s O.W.L. marks are framed on the wall, along with Dumbledore’s letters to James and Lily awarding them the position of Head Girl and Head Boy, as well as McGonagall’s previous letter to Remus that came with his Prefect badge years ago. There’s a spot dedicated to Peter, filled with a photograph of him awkwardly holding his Herbology test, one that he scored a hundred and twelve percent on. It’s a wall dedicated to them, you realize. 

Then, you find it. 

Right there, up above James’s spot, and beside Sirius’s display of beyond perfect Transfiguration exam marks, and a picture of him and Remus kissing each side of your face. 

It’s a space on that wall just for you. 

James follows your gaze and rubs the back of his head, ears tinged with a shade of deep pink. “Mum left a space when I first told her about you. I-It’s yours, you can put anything you want there.” 

“I can’t,” You whisper, lips quivering as your heart cracks into a million pieces. It’s too much. 

James blinks. “Can’t? It’s yours, I promise. Mum won’t mind. You can even hang your dumb Montrose Magpies poster and I won’t tear it down — Marauders’ honor. I can help you if you want. I-I’m not good as decorating as Lily, but I paid attention to your boring explanation of color theory and I know that you hate this shade of—”

“James, I can’t do this.” 

That’s all you say before you run out of the door. 

(And you’re absolutely delusional if you think James won’t follow you out that door and into the brewing snowstorm.) 

You hear James call out to you, but you opt to ignore him and clutch your winter coat tighter around your body, shivering in the blowing wind, trudging through the deep snow through your heeled boots — designer couldn’t help you now even if you tried. You sniff, the salty taste of your tears dripping to your lips, chest tightening with a foreign kind of pain, and the frost nipping at your fingers. You give up after a few minutes, falling to the ground with an anguished cry, hand clutching the front of your chest as you struggle to breathe. 

James reaches you in a matter of minutes, draping his jacket over you, barely flinching as the cold welts his bare skin. Frantically, he wipes the tears from your eyes, a pained expression on his face as he sees you cry helplessly. “Come on, dove, it’s not safe out here. Let’s go back home, yeah? I’m sorry for upsetting you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry — I’m so sorry, dove, please don’t cry, it’s killing me to s–see you like this.” Tears fall from his eyes, and he begins stuttering from the cold, but you can’t go back to the manor. “What did I do? Please tell me so I can fix it. I love you—I’m sorry.”

You bat his chest. “G–Go home, Jamie. I’ll just take the train back to the castle.” 

“What?” He shakes his head, grabbing onto your hands. “Y–You can’t. Not in this weather. You’ll get sick if you try to walk back to the station.” 

You withdraw from his hold as you back away from James, slipping into the ice-cold mask you know so well. 

James rises in an instant, reaching for you. “No, no, no, no, no. You don’t get to do that. Not now. Not with me. Please, just come home and I-I’ll fix it.” 

“Goodbye, James,” You tell him firmly, clenching your jaw as you look him straight in the eyes. 

He grimaces. “That won’t work on me, princess, and you know it. Don’t push me away—please.” 

“Go home, James!” You yell bitterly, pivoting on your heel as you march through the thick inches of snow, hearing Remus and Lily’s voice grow louder in the distance. “Just go!”

He grits his teeth, nails digging deep into the palms of his hand. “You’re a coward if you walk away from here—from us—right now!” James shouts through chattering teeth and stray tears. “And I hate cowards more than anything!” 

You don’t look back. 

(Later that night, James stares blankly at the fireplace, tossing twigs now and then. He’s all out of tears. Remus crosses his legs as he sits beside James and offers him a steaming mug of hot chocolate. 

“Don’t want one,” He mutters, words coarse from earlier, head turning away from Remus’s gift. “Just want her.” 

Remus sets the beverage on the ground before pulling James’s head down to his chest, gently wiping the tears from his eyes as he wraps the blanket around both of them. He presses a soft kiss to James’s hair. 

“I said I hated her,” James says weakly. “I don’t—I never will. I just hate that she’s out there spending Christmas all alone. She could be here—with us. I hate not knowing that she’s safe, or that she thinks I don’t love her anymore—that’s a bloody lie, Moony. I adore her. If anything, I don’t deserve her.” 

James finds out that he does have more tears left in him. “I miss her. Bring her back, Rem, please.”

“You’ll cry yourself sick, love.” Remus wipes each tear away. “Let’s go to bed, yeah? Mornings do have a way of bringing miracles to us.” Because after a night of excruciating pain under the moon’s command, he wakes up to sunlight, and there you all are — smiling down at him like he is deserving of love; and maybe Remus can’t fault you for running away.

You’d kiss him gently and tell him how proud you are of him for coming back to you. 

Remus only hopes you come back to them, too.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“AND THAT, dear Harry, is how I humiliated Lucius Malfoy in fifth-year.” Your eyes gleam wickedly as you rest your arms on the school desk. “If he ever bothers you in your time, just mention my name—oh, I wish I could see the look on his face when he realizes I’m haunting him from my grave. Tell him, okay?” 

Harry nods excitedly. “Definitely.”

“Got anymore stories?” He asks. 

You cackle menacingly. “Boy, do I ever. Let me tell you about the one time Beckett McLaggen took me out on a date to Madam Puddifoot’s!” 

Harry grimaces. “Do I even want to hear about this?” 

“Oh, pish-posh.” You dismiss him with a wave. “You do, this story is hilarious. Now that I look back on it, Sirius was quite cross with him for the rest of the day—how strange. I wonder why.” 

Harry stares at you in disbelief. “You’re joking.” 

“I most certainly am not, Harry Potter.” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1974; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

AN EAR-PIERCING scream wakes you up in the middle of the night. You snatch your wand from under your pillow, heart thudding against your chest in fear — last year, the Prewett twins decided it was funny to break into the girls’ quarters at midnight; you get a month worth of detention for hitting Gideon with the Expulso curse and suspension from class for two weeks, while the twins get away with a slap on the wrist and have the time of their lives spreading rumors of you being a Death-Eater. 

Endora shoots up to her feet as well, staring at you in panic — then the girl screams again, and you realize it’s Allegra. 

You sigh in relief, lowering your wand before saying to Endora, “I-It’s alright. I’ll handle it.” 

“Are you sure?” Endora asks timidly, gnawing at her lip and wincing when Allegra wails once more. 

“Certain,” You respond, yawning. 

As Endora climbs back into her bed, you slip into Allegra’s side, holding her head to your chest, brushing your fingers through her hair and untangling the knots. Like most of the Greengrass women, she was of ethereal beauty — silky blonde hair, smooth and fair skin, deep blue eyes that enchant wizards and witches alike. But her cheeks have gone sallow from exhaustion, eyes devoid of any emotion, and her skin now sunken into her bones. 

“I don’t want to marry him—I can’t! He’s old enough to be my father!” Allegra sobs violently, desperate for anyone to hear her, but no one really ever hears their cries from the dungeon. “They said they’d wait until I graduated—they promised! I’m supposed to marry him this summer!” 

Your heart breaks for your friend — there’s nothing you can do but hold her until she’s cried every bit of her soul out. 

“I hate them,” Allegra whispers to you; she had been shedding tears for hours, trembling in your arms until morning finally came. 

“I know,” You say defeatedly. 

“I wish I was dead,” She replies lifelessly. “He can’t marry a dead bride.” 

“Don’t say that,” You beg as you hug her tight; afraid to lose her to the world that has worn her down. “Please.” 

Allegra sinks into her pillows, and you follow in suit, hesitantly laying your head beside hers. She stares at the ceiling dully. “The world is so, so cruel to us daughters sometimes. And it’ll be cruel to our daughters, and their daughters. When will it end?” 

“I don’t know,” You say honestly. 

Allegra hums, neither disappointed nor surprised, and turns away to lay on her side. “Pansy,” She mumbles.

“What?”

“If we lived in a better world and I married for love, I’d want to name my daughter Pansy — like the flower.”

(Later that day, you are given detention for beating Evan Rosier to a pulp. He makes a joke about dirty blood, and you snap — you are tired of laughing and pandering to the arrogant men in your life. This is the first time you publicly defy your parents, and it felt good — more than good, it was liberating. It’s like breathing fresh air for the first time. Then, you earn a second detention for storming up to the Gryffindor common room and punching Fabian Prewett in the face — because fourth-year boys had no business sneaking into the girls’ dorm in the middle of the night for some stupid prank — and you threaten him by pointing the tip of your wand deep into his neck, demanding they apologize to you, Allegra, and Endora. 

You get what you want, naturally — as princesses do. You decide then that you’re going to create a world where girls like Allegra don’t cry anymore.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.) 

HARRY TWINGES WHEN he hears the end of your fourth or fifth story of the afternoon — no wonder you had been so angered by his being in your room. “I-I’m sorry—” 

“Yesterday was hardly your fault,” You interrupt him. “There’s no controlling where magic brings you, not in your case. You didn’t know, but now you know. I don’t hold it against them — anymore. Fifteen-year-old boys can be stupid, and at least they’ve learned from their mistakes. You should have seen your mother — erm, Lily — she looked like she was ready to kill them after finding out what they had done. Even Molly was cross with the twins, and you know how loyal Molly is to her family.”

Oh, Harry knows.

And Hermione knows it all too well. 

“Others call us evil, conniving and cruel, Harry,” You tell him grimly, “But I will protect my own, no matter what I have to do.”

At that moment, Harry thinks he understands why some people come to fear Slytherin. 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.) 

“LOOK, LILY-PAD, the princess is drooling again.” 

You open your eyes to glare at Sirius. “I don’t drool, idiot.” 

Lily chortles as she presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Of course you don’t, princess.”

Currently, you’re lying on a shabby loveseat that is too small to hold the three of you; it’s the only furniture in the new cottage you call home, where Potter Manor was right across the street. (Euphemia was ecstatic to have you all nearby — the lovely woman was sprite for her age, but you notice the way she stops to sit and catch her breath, Sirius and James hovering over her attentively; you’re good at pretending, so you pretend that the Potters will be around forever.) Some rooms are dusty with cobwebs, walls unfinished, with the floors creak under your feet, and there’s no other place you’d rather call home. 

You’re in between Sirius and Lily; your lips swollen from their kisses, cheeks flushed and the column of your throat graced with love marks. It’s the most beautiful set of jewelry you’ve ever worn, not even burmese rubies could compare. Lily’s hand rests under your jumper, Sirius’s thigh wedged between your own. While peace blankets the three of you, James and Remus have yet to come home from their task given by the Order. 

“You need a haircut, my love,” You mumble drowsily, pulling at one of the dark ringlets — it’s gone past his shoulders now. He captures your hand and leaves a delicate kiss on your fingertips. 

Lily buries her nose in your hair. “She’s right, Siri.” 

“I’m always right.” You pout. 

Sirius, love-sick fool that he is, smiles as he tilts your chin with his finger and ensnares you in a kiss that leaves you breathless. “Course you are — our girl’s bloody brilliant, isn’t she, Lily-pad?”

“Without a doubt.”

You roll your eyes at their antics, rolling around so that your back is pressed to Sirius’s chest — they’re not fooled, however; Lily sees the way your eyes flicker in amusement and the way your lips threaten to curve up into a smile. She traces the swell of your lips with her thumb, to the dip of your nose, and to the apples of your cheek. Sea-green eyes beam at you.

“I love you,” says Lily, committing every inch of you to her memory as she wears a melancholic smile. “I don’t know who told you that you don’t deserve to be loved, but they were wrong. You are so precious to us, dove, you don’t even know how much. This right here is real — and nothing could ever change that.” 

As it turns out, you did have more smiles to give — only the happy ones; not the fake, courteous smiles that you had given to your mother’s friends in the past. You come to intertwine your hand with Lily’s, the one that had been resting on your cheek, tenderly wiping the tears that pooled within your eyes. Your heart could burst from your chest. They had a habit of wringing every emotion out of you; of making love feel real, not just a myth from a Muggle storybook. And you find, that you didn’t mind this particular habit of theirs. In the comforts of the place you call home, where you irrefutably belong, you are free to seek their arms and fall into their love, and the best part is where you get to love them right back. 

How lucky you are. 

“Let’s get married,” You blurt out, holding your breath, feeling Sirius’s hand on your waist stiffen. 

“What?” Lily gasps breathlessly. 

You smile up at Lily. “Let’s get married. All of us. I don’t care where, o–or about the rings, let’s just get married. With the war going on, we deserve s–something good.” 

Lily sobs as she nods excitedly. “Yes. Oh my Gods—we’re getting married!” 

Sirius stares at you in wonder. “Bloody hell, dove, give a guy some warning, would you?”

You grin. “Is that a yes?” 

“It’s a yes — forever.” Sirius dives in to kiss you senseless. “Couldn’t get rid of us now even if you tried.” 

“I don’t think I’d want to, anyway.” 

Right then, the rickety door slams open, and you hear the loves of your life calling out for the three of you. Followed by the heavy thud of Dragonhide boots plunking down onto the floor

“We’re home!” James announces in the entryway. 

Lily wastes no time in shooting up from the sofa and welcoming them home with quite a unique greeting:

“We’re all getting married!” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.) 

“That ring is an heirloom passed down to the children in our family,” You tell Harry, pointing to the band around his finger. “It’s meant to symbolize our loyalty and duty to our House. My mother said I would have earned it only when I became a wife to Ferguson Bulstrode.” You chuckle at Harry’s perturbed grimace. “No, I didn’t marry him — thankfully. After Allegra. . . I—I. . . I couldn’t bear it. If I was going to marry, it would be on my own terms, and it would be for love, nothing less. Then, if my child wanted it, I’d give them this ring. I want to leave behind a legacy that I created. When I was younger, I’d resigned to a fate that was forcefully carved by someone else’s hand.” 

You shake your head. “I want to die being remembered by those who loved me. Otherwise, I was never truly alive.” 

Harry won’t let that happen, he won’t ever let your name be forgotten. He’ll share of your kindness to his friends, of your bravery and loyalty. Hermione will love your fondness of Muggle musicals and how you stood up to Lily’s defense in a world that ostracized her for being different. He’ll remind Remus of your love for him, that he had brought you hope in times of despair. Harry is going to make sure the world knows you had been so full of life with endless love to give. You are going to be remembered in the way Voldemort never will. 

“What do the words mean?” He stares at the writing: Tempus Edax Rerum.

You smile. “Time, devourer of all things.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

“REMUS—THE MUGGLES ARE stuck in the telly again!” 

Remus snickers as he takes the vacant space beside you on the loveseat, now sewn up with care and spattered with knitted quilts and throw pillows — still too small to carry three people but hasn’t given out yet, anyway. He takes Lily’s legs over his lap, swiftly stealing a kiss from your lips. “It’s a film, dove, they’re acting.” 

You purse your lips. “They’re trapped inside, then?” 

Lily snorts into her tub of chocolate fudge ice cream. “Not quite, princess, it’s recorded. Movies are like moving photographs — but they’re an hour long with sounds.” 

“Oh.” You turn your attention back to the screen, back to the film Lily had been watching. You had to admit — the story of Sandy and Danny was an interesting one. “Lily-pad, she’s singing — again.” 

Sirius hushes you from where he was cuddling James on the other couch. “She’s supposed to sing, dove, it’s a musical.” 

“Well, yes,” You begin, and James groans into Sirius’s chest, “But they should just talk instead of singing all the time — Sandy’s got a lovely voice, though. I just don’t understand why Danny’s treating her like that! Truthfully, I don’t like any of Sandy’s new friends, other than Frenchy — she’s harmless. If I was Sandy I’d move on from Danny — but then again, that hair and those muscles, and his leather jacket! I can’t blame her.” 

Sirius glowers at you. “You like his leather jacket?” 

“His hair?” James exclaims in horror. 

Remus chuckles as he tucks you in his side, kissing your temple. “If I were you, dove, I’d be quiet and just watch the film.”

“Oh, no, no.” Sirius barely glances at the television as he pauses the film and stands up to point an accusatory finger at you. “Since when were you into leather jackets? Do you think those are cool? Since when? Jamie, should I get one? Let’s unpack this, right now. And his muscles, really?” 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Play the film, Black, I want to see the end of their love story.” 

“I’m telling Euphemia on you!” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.) 

“—and then we realized that we accidentally locked Hermione in with the troll.” Harry’s arms flail about as he shares some of his adventures with you — it had only been fair. He felt like a young boy again, entering Hogwarts for the first time as he watched you listen to him intently, gasping at tale of the vanishing glass and scolding him when he says he and Ron had decided to go searching for Hermione, and by extension, the troll. 

Your eyes grow wide. “A troll? In Hogwarts? They can’t have, not unless—”

“Someone let it in—I know!” Harry grins. “You’re not going to believe who let the troll in the castle.” 

You snap your fingers, “Malfoy, the older one. I know that lump’s got something to do with this. Can’t have been Snape or Quirrell.”

“Just you wait.” Harry’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “—and so, Professor McGonagall finds us, and can you believe it? She awards us for dumb luck! Then. . .” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1979; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

IT HAD COME AS A surprise when you volunteered to join the Order of the Phoenix. You wanted to scoff at their shocked faces — was it so surprising that you wanted to protect your family? They let Severus Snape join their ranks, and you’re fairly certain that you’re a better fighter and survivalist than him — not the better liar, however, he can have that one. The week before, you and the others had an argument that lasted for the whole day. They did not want you in harm’s way, and you would rather die than stay at home, waiting idly for them to return, when you could be out there alongside them. 

(“It’s not some game out there!” Remus runs through his hair in frustration — he had always been so careful to never raise his voice at you, but this one time, he needed you to back down. “Every time you step into a raid, there’s a possibility of you dying, don’t you understand that? And even if you survive — you’ll have blood on your hands, and it does not wash away no matter how many times you try, trust me, we know.” 

“So what?” You throw your hands up in the air, equally aggravated. “I just stay here like some. . . some pet waiting for their owners to come home?” 

“Yes!” Lily angrily replies. “That is the whole point of us joining the Order — so you get to live another day. So we all have a chance at this new world without a war. Let us protect you!”

You grind down on your jaw. “You have got another thing coming, if you think I’m not going to fight tooth and nail for my future.” 

James slams a fist onto the kitchen counter. “There are horrors out there you can’t even imagine. I-It’s worse than we thought. It’s our every nightmare come to life.” 

You raise your chin defiantly. “Then we face it together.”)

Each day, you survive, and each day the five of you return home — scarred and bruised, but safe within the arms of one another. When you collapse and crumble, it is only for the walls of your home to witness. 

Now a month into autumn, you are on your first task without Sirius, James, Lily or even Remus. Instead, you are assigned by Dumbledore to Knockturn Alley along with Peter Pettigrew and Gideon Prewett. How strange time was, years ago you’d never associate with the proud Gryffindors, and now you had to trust them to guard your back. Everyone had to grow up quickly during war, even pranksters. 

The alley was quiet — too quiet for your liking. You had been on alert since the moment you apparated into the area, wand at your ready. The back of your neck prickled with goosebumps as you kept an ear out for any sign of movement. 

Peter shivers and you glance at him — he’s become far too skinny, constantly shrinking into himself out of fear. And while you want to comfort him, you keep your eyes up ahead. Still, there's a nagging feeling that you can’t quite make out. It’s different from all the other times you’ve been asked to search and rescue. 

“Don’t you feel like there’s something wrong?” You ask Gideon, eyes snapping to the flock of crows flying overhead. 

“Dunno, kid,” Gideon says, nudging your shoulder with pressed lips. “Everything about this is freaking me out. The place is too empty.” 

“I get what you mean,” You reply, swallowing your own nervousness. Without waiting for the rest, you speed up your pace. “I’ll scout ahead, who knows what’s been here before us. I don’t want to risk any of our lives, so let’s be careful. Gideon, ward the area while I check for any cursed objects, last time you almost got your arm cut off by a newspaper of all things. And Peter, could you. . . Peter?” 

When you turn to check behind you, it all happens so fast. 

“Avada Kedavra!” 

You scream as Gideon’s deathly pale body falls to the floor. 

“No!” 

You aren’t given a moment to rush to his side — someone digs their wand in the side of your neck, and you stiffen in their hold. It’s not until they hiss in your ear that you recognize the voice. 

“Rosier.” You spit, biting down on your lip when he presses the tip of his wand further into your flesh. 

“Stupid witch,” He taunts, eyes dilating with vengeance. “Where are your lovers now?” 

“Jealous?” You claw at his arms, chest heaving up and down. “We don’t have room for one more, sorry.”

“Shut up!” He pushes you to the ground in blind rage, and that’s all the opening you need. 

“Expulso!” 

Each curse you send his way lands on his cloaked body, sending him staggering backwards. With ease, you deflect each spell he counters with. You’re winning, he is growing tired, and perhaps that is why you let your guard down. 

“Accio wand!” 

The magic fizzles out, and the spell dies on your lips. As you swivel your head to find out who’s stolen your wand, you expect to find another Death Eater — except it’s Peter. Just Peter Pettigrew, quivering in his boots with tears and snot dripping down his face, your wand in his free hand. You furrow your brows — it doesn’t make sense. 

“Peter?” You call out. 

“Crucio!” 

The curse finds its home in your body — and it sinks deep into your flesh, grinding your bones until you slump to the ground, wriggling as you draw blood from your lips, refusing to let them hear an ounce of your pain. Blood trickles down your nose as you hear Evan Rosier dancing around you in glee. You know this curse well; the sound of your father condemning you gleefully echo in your head. You crawl over to Gideon — hand desperately reaching for his shirt. 

“Crucio!” Rosier grabs you by the hair and howls with laughter. “Scream for me again—Crucio!” 

It’s as though someone had begun to rip you in half. Your bones shift and crack with every uttered curse. The veins in your eyes have popped and through bloody vision, you see Peter cowering away from you.

“You—fucking—traitor,” You gurgle, throat welling up with blood that’s risen from your stomach. “They’ll—never—forgive you—never.” 

“Crucio! Crucio! Crucio! Come on, witch — SCREAM! Look at her go, Pettigrew, crawling like some pathetic worm.” 

You lay in your owl pool of blood, wearing a body that is marred and lacerated. But you see something in Gideon’s hand. I’m sorry, you want to tell him. I’ll get you home to Molly, you promise, please lend me your magic this once. With every last bit of your strength, just as Rosier directs another curse at you — one you know you won’t survive — you snatch the wand from Gideon’s hand and tear the last of your magic from your throat. 

“Defodio!” 

You wait with a bated breath as silence fills the alley; lucky to have remembered Professor Flitwick’s quick remark as to how the slight difference in pronouncing a charm could alter its effect. Rosier stands on shaky legs, a stream of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. You watch as he looks down to his chest, where a gaping hole now lies instead of where his ribcage and heart should be. As Gideon had done before him, Evan Rosier crashes to the ground. 

That just leaves one more problem. 

Peter scurries to your side the moment Rosier can hurt him no longer. “I-I’m sorry—I’m sorry. I had to. . . T–They killed my mum, they killed M–Mary, and t–they said I would die too if I d–didn’t do this. I’m sorry. Y–Your father was there, too. He said he would take you in, let you l–live if you joined us. W–We can live, t–there’s still a chance for us to survive.” 

Your fingers are bent at unsightly angles, the remnants of the Torture Curse still flowing through your veins, but your face contorts in anger as you let your hand curl around his neck. He sobs louder, and though your grip is weakening — you make sure he looks into your eyes, that he feels your touch.

“I’d rather—die.” You say through gritted teeth, nails drawing blood from his grimy skin. “You’ll die too—you’ll feel my blood on your skin—everywhere you go, Peter.” 

Peter shakes his head, now clumsily pushing his wand down to the center of your chest. “Y–You were the only o–one who d–didn’t laugh at me. N–Not like the others.” 

“When they find out—you’re dead, Pettigrew.” You laugh darkly as more blood exits your body through your lips. “There’s nowhere you can hide—you’re a dead man.” 

“P-Please die,” Peter cries out, each killing spell coming out as a garbled whisper. “Please die,  s–so I can live. I c–can’t fight anymore, I’m tired.” 

Your vision goes a hazy shade of white, Peter’s silhouette fading away to the familiar scenery of your cottage in Godric’s Hollow. 

Oh.

Dying is less painful than you had expected it to be. It’s like coming home after a day’s work. 

You just wanted to rest now. 

The world caves in on you, and you barely hear Peter’s next words. 

“Avada Kedavra.” 

(It’s past midnight when Peter Pettigrew arrives at Grimmauld Place, where it’s been altered to host the members of the Order, Lily sobs in relief and gathers him in her arms. 

You’ll feel my blood on your skin.

You’re a dead man. 

Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead. 

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re home safe — welcome home — thank the Gods you’re alive,” Lily blabbers through her tears, checking his face for any major injuries. “Merlin, what happened? There’s too much blood on you. It’s on your shirt and your face.” 

“It’s not mine,” says Peter hoarsely. 

Sirius’s gaze darkens, arms crossed over his jacket as he leaned against the wall. “Where is she?” 

Lily nods, standing on her tiptoes to search for any sign of you. “Peter? I–Is she alright? Has something happened to her?” 

Peter stays silent for a moment too long, and he finds himself slammed against the wall behind him, Sirius snarling in his face as he seizes the front of Peter’s soiled shirt. “Where the fuck is she, Pettigrew?” 

Peter begins to weep. “I–It was an ambush. None of us saw it coming. Gideon r–ran. She was taking on two Death-Eaters at once and I–I was too far away.” 

Lily collapses to the ground with a heart-wrenching scream.

Sirius growls as he drives his fist to the wall, inches away from Peter’s face. “Where is her body?” 

“It was a disintegration spell.” With Severus Snape — brought to the Malfoy Manor to be made as an example of what happens to blood-traitors. 

James pushes Sirius out of the way and grabs a hold of Peter, knocking his head against the concrete. “It should have been you—” James snaps at Peter. “If it came down to you or her—you should have saved her!” 

“W-What?” Peter stammers, eyes wide. “She chose to save m–me.” 

James sneers at him. “You should have just died.”)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1996; CURRENTLY, IN THE PRESENT.) 

ST. JEROME’S GRAVEYARD had exactly one visitor. Remus Lupin sits in between James and Lily’s graves, a bottle of firewhiskey in his hand — four empty at his side. He must be going crazy. There’s no funeral for Sirius as there’s no body to actually bury, Harry is presumed missing after an attack in Diagon Alley, and your name stares back at him mockingly. He tries not to dwell on your passing — there have been too many holes, too many details left unsaid; and he knows just the rat who has all the answers. Unfortunately, Wormtail won’t come out of whatever hole he’s crawled into. Either him, or Severus. 

He sighs, rubbing the temples of his head to ease the growing pains. 

You are the first to be buried of the five. Like Sirius, there had been no recovered body to lay to rest, but they asked for a compromise instead. Your name is engraved under Euphemia’s in her tombstone, and Remus figures it’s the fitting place to leave you be — with your mother, welcoming you home with open arms. He hopes you’re at peace, wherever you are. (Because, honestly, at this point, he might just fucking follow you.) 

Remus takes another swig of his alcohol, laughing bitterly to himself. He glances at James’s headstone and raises his bottle to him. “Not even in death, huh?”

He downs the last of the drink, rising to his tremulous legs. Remus gathers the flower bouquets he had bought earlier this morning; lilies-of-the-valley for Lily, white carnations for Euphemia, forget-me-nots for you, and for James — Remus leaves a moving photograph of him and Sirius; it’s a snapshot taken by Lily during the wedding as James dips his head low to kiss Sirius. Remus thinks it’s a wonderful memory to remember them by. 

“Take care of them for me, Jamie.”

And that is all the goodbyes Remus has the strength for. 

end note. i think i was crying the whole time i was writing this part, LMAO. i should be able to wrap things up in the next one. important!! there is actually a scene i was hesitant to include, but i ended up writing anyway. it's the whole part where allegra greengrass breaks down, and it was difficult for me to decide because i knew the implications; that i had a strong underlying message in that part, and i don't want it to be misconstrued or anything. pls pls tell me if it comes off as offensive, i definitely don't want to hurt anyone. nevertheless, thank you again so so so much for reading!! if you spot a plot hole, no you didnt!! i hope the time-jumps weren't too confusing! again, thank you so so much for reading!!

it’s cold | r.w.

SUMMARY: you and ron head out to an empty parking lot on christmas night

PAIRING(S): modern au! ron weasley x reader

WARNINGS: none really, fluff, excessive amount of giggling lmao

WORD COUNT: 0.3k

A/N: this is my first one-shot on tumblr LMAOO idk how this is gonna do but wish me luck!! / going on the hp master list 

-

“Are you sure we’ll be back by then to open presents with our families?” You turned your head to Ron. 

“I assure you, we will be back by then.” Ron smiled brightly while looking at you, nose as red as a reindeer, before tugging his scarf up an inch.

You two walked in an empty parking lot, snow on the ground untouched. 

“’S beautiful, right?”

“Yeah.. I guess so.”

“Look over here, y/n. Perfect spot for snow angels. Why don’t you make one, and we’ll take a picture for s/n?” Ron pointed over to a snowy hill beside a tree. 

You shuffled through the snow to the tree marked land, examining it up and down before spinning around and falling in the snow intentionally. 

You and Ron let out a small giggle as you began swaying your arms and legs back and forth, forming the perfect snow angel. 

After a minute or two, you got up from the ground to stand next to Ron as you inspected your snow angel. 

“Looks a little wonky, lovely.” He sneered as your disposition changed from calm to surprised with sarcastic hurt.

“Oh, shut up” You lightly shoved him and laughed. 

“I’m just joking. It looks decent, hun.” He pulled out his camera from his back pocket to take a picture. 

The camera made a loud ticking noise and shuttered, before spitting out the series of four pictures that Ron captured just seconds ago.

“Pretty,” You uttered in a low, calm tone, leaning on your boyfriends shoulder as you two looked at the photos in unison.

Ron lifted his camera before flipping it and snapping another photo, kissing your cheek when the camera clicked. 

“I didn’t even have time to pose, Ron!” You bantered in a silly manner, looking up at him before you pulled his loose scarf down, kissing him again. 

He laughed, but his smile faded a little. 

“Is there something wrong, Weasley?” 

“I can’t figure what I’d be doing right now if I wasn’t with you, l/n.” 

-

♡ my favourite draco ♡ (headcanons)

*draco that I’ve created in my mind, thanks to endless hours spent on reading fanfictions, the books and binge-watching the movies*

oh, Draco…

he’s flawed, full of brilliance yet deeply insecure

desperately tries to hide his self-doubt behind ironic smirks

uses sarcasm (a lot) as a shield protecting himself of any vulnerability

his tongue is sharp, he effortlessly cuts through any argument, always knowing exactly what to say to hurt you in the worst way possible- even if you are someone important to him (or perhaps, especially so)

quick tempered, saying spiteful things in the heat of the moment, only to regret them later

his nights are restless as he torments himself with thoughts about his worth, grappling with past choices and questioning whether he's deserving or not

desperately craves for a connection in the darkest of his room

fuelled by ambition (classic slytherin), carrying himself with pride, a touch of poshness, and (an occasional) dramatic flair

he wants to appear to the world as someone cold, but he actually has the sweetest soul, hidden behind a distant demeanour he so deliberately created through the years

a loverboy at his core, he quietly yearns for something more than its written for him

he dreams of genuine relationship, something that could take his breath away, but he’ll never openly admit to that, so instead he will torture himself with the thought

he writes you a love letter and never sends it

he wants to give you roses, kiss your hand gently every-time he sees you

he wants to walk you home, give you his warmest sweater, watch how your eyes glitter in the pale moonlight

he can be funny if he's not too stuck-up in his head at the moment, he likes to tease a lot, and flirt shamelessly

if he hurt you with his reckless words, firstly he feels good about it and after the realisation hits him he's full of rage, he detest himself because of it, is punching a wall with his bare fists, his knuckles in blood, howling, he's losing his mind

he's apologising to you on his knees, begging you not to leave him and ugly crying

when it comes to his looks, he’s tall and blonde (obviously)

has the loveliest upside-down smile

beautiful bone structure, beautiful jawline beautiful everything

sad, blue eyes, a hint of thunderstorm and doubt hidden behind them

almost aggressive, violet bags under them as he can't sleep at night, remember?

his complexion pale, almost sick, that make it seem like he hasn’t seen the sun in centuries

long limbs, neatly done hair, short-cut nails, always shaved

dressed impeccably in dark attire that make him look so utterly delicious

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

you can find more of my works about draco ♡here♡

creature of the night

Summary: You're just a toy in Tom's world, yet love has found its way into your heart

Warnings: Explicit content (18+), manipulative Tom

Word Count: 2,500

Author's Note: The irony is, I detest guys like this in the real world, but there's a strange satisfaction in writing stories about Tom’s character. There’s a hate-love relationship between us, well… enjoy the ride

also! you can read this on ao3 if you prefer it that way ♡

(gif originally posted by voldemrt)

meet me tonight

The note said, with its neatly arranged letters. It held a promise that made your heart feel heavy and light at the same time as you were both excited and scared of what was to come. With Tom you could never be certain. Sometimes he made you feel like you belong, he made you feel seen. Other times he made you feel lonely, despite holding you in his arms. 

As if he wasn't there, not truly present, and it hurt, but you didn’t tell a word. 

You stared at the note blankly for a moment, finding it delicately placed on top of your pillow. The ritual was familiar – Tom's passion for leaving these little messages. They surfaced under the weight of your books, nestled in the pocket of your mantle, or discreetly positioned on your favourite desk in the library. His proficiency in crafting subtle messages left you perpetually anticipating the next one, creating a secret language between you two. Each note, a whispered promise, held significance beyond its written words.You carefully stored each note in a small wooden box, coming back to them when you feel particularly romantic or in the quiet moments, after yet another day where Tom treated you as if you didn't exist. The paradox of his presence and absence, the silent yearning  and the allure of his elusive messages painted a complex portrait of your twisted relationship.

The daylight stretches endlessly, but the promise of our night brings a spark to the hours

In the quiet secrecy of the night, you found solace in the secret meetings with Tom. His warm embrace, soft smiles, and gentle touches became familiar, creating an intimate haven that seemed to belong to just the two of you. In those stolen moments, you felt as if you had unraveled the layers of his complex persona, knowing him in a way that no one else did.

Yet, the illusion shattered in the harsh light of day. As the sun illuminated the hallways of Hogwarts, revealing its secrets and concealing its mysteries, Tom transformed. The tender moments you shared in the hidden corners of the castle were replaced by a cold indifference. It was as if the encounters of the night had never happened, as if he were a stranger passing you by in the endless corridors.

In the common room, amidst the chatter of fellow students, he glanced through you as though you wasn’t there. His eyes, once filled with warmth, now held an unpleasant distance, leaving you to question whether the tender exchanges between you had been nothing more than fragments of a dream.

It was a paradoxical, the dichotomy between the intimacy of the night and the detachment of the day. Tom's dual nature left you grappling with the unsettling reality that the person who whispered sweet promises under the moonlight seemed oblivious to your existence in the harsh light of day. The dissonance between these two versions of him became a puzzle, and you found yourself entangled in the endless shifts of his demeanour.

The secrecy of your relationship took a toll, and the contrast between the Tom who held you in the darkness and the one who ignored you in the light became a source of inner mayhem. The warmth of his touch lingered in your memory, but the chill of his indifference left you yearning for consistency. You couldn't help but wonder which version of Tom was the real one, and whether the night held the truth or the day.

The Hogwarts walls stood as silent sentinels, enveloped in an air of mystery, as if holding the secrets of centuries within their stone embrace. The night, full of shadows and cold whispers. The path, winding and labyrinthine, demanded caution, the necessity to watch your back a constant reminder of the precarious nature of your secret escapades.

Yet, every step, every twist and turn, seemed a worthwhile investment, for at the end of this nocturnal journey awaited Tom. He sat there, perched on the couch in the Room of Requirements, immersed in the ethereal glow of dim light. His brows were furrowed as he was bending over the book. It was late, but Tom, a creature of the night, was indifferent to the demands of sleep, his insatiable curiosity fuelling his restless mind.

In the play of shadows, his jawline emerged as if sculpted from marble, each contour a testament to the divine craftsmanship of otherworldly hands. Cheekbones, sharp and pronounced, echoed the elegance of classical statuary. His hair, a cascade of raven black, seemed to absorb the darkness of the night. Divine. Surely, he didn’t belong to this world.

As you approached, the air crackled with an otherworldly energy. The Room of Requirement seemed to come alive in his presence. In this nocturnal realm, Tom beckoned like a magnetic force, drawing you into a world where magic intertwined with mystery, and the boundaries between reality and enchantment blurred.

When he noticed you, time seemed to pause. His gaze made your insides clenched, a strange monster clawing at your stomach, reaping you apart. 

“You came,” he said, the corners of his lips curling into smile.

“Yes, yes… of course I came.”

“Good,” he murmured, standing up and reaching for you. His lips met the soft skin of your wrist, sending shivers down your spine. The warmth of his touch left you breathless. Lifting you effortlessly, he held you close, your legs entwining above his hips. Your heads were now on the same level, and he kissed you passionately, each touch leaving a lingering sensation. His lips trailed along your neck, his hair and tongue teasing your delicate skin. Tom guided you to a secluded corner, settling on the leather couch with you still in his arms. The shadows flickered and danced on the walls, a silent play of darkness and light in the dimly lit room. You nestled your face in the crook of his neck, embracing him tightly. It felt like where you were meant to be. It felt right. 

“I thought of you all this time, couldn’t wait for you to come, you know that, darling?” Tom inquired, his voice smooth, yet calculated. His eyes bore into yours once again, attempting to unravel the thoughts hidden behind your gaze. Not much could escape him; he could see right through you. You looked away, a bashful smile playing on your lips.

“I couldn't wait either,” you admitted, your voice carrying a mix of anticipation and excitement. He chuckled softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re too sweet. What am I going to do with you?” he asked, his hands gently resting on your thighs, a subtle pressure against your skin.

“And what do you want to do with me?” Your mind was starting to get hazy. All you could think about was the anticipation building with his eager hands.

“Everything, I want everything,” he whispered in your ear, his voice low and seductive, carrying a hint of desire and... possession. The room seemed to shrink, and your head started to fill with dreams. He wanted you.

The warmth of the fire, the gentle caress of Tom's fingers on your skin, and the intoxicating scent of the room created a heady atmosphere. You were captivated, caught in the web of his allure. As Tom's hands continued their exploration, a tingling warmth spread through your body. The flickering flames cast playful shadows, dancing across the walls. The rhythmic crackling of the fire was the only melody in this secret meetings in the middle of the deepest of night.

His fingers, cool yet masterful, traced patterns on your skin, leaving a trail of anticipation in their wake. The touch, possessive and tender, spoke a language only the two of you understood. Time lost its meaning. You closed your eyes, losing yourself in the symphony of sensations.

Tom's lips brushed against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "You're mine," he whispered, his voice like a seductive melody, weaving a spell around you. The possessiveness in his tone ignited a flame within, a dangerous thrill that both scared and excited you. As he held you close, you felt a magnetic pull, binding you to him in a dance of forbidden longing. As stolen moments unfolded, a haunting question lingered: Why couldn't he be wholly yours? The wish to unravel his secrets, to see him in the unfiltered light swept through your every emotion.

As his lips fervently sought yours, a surge of unrestrained need flowed between you, each kiss a profound declaration of a passion that defied reason. Tom, with an intensity that bordered on desperation, cradled your face in his hands. The kiss that ensued was all-consuming. His eyes were hungry, a desire for more.

In that suspended moment, the world outside ceased to exist. You found yourself entangled in the harmony of interwoven tongues and intertwined breaths, a magnetic force pulling you deeper into the forbidden. The air around you crackled with the electricity of shared longing, and every kiss became a vow, a binding promise of the undiscovered intensity yet to unfold.

As the urgency of the moment heightened, so did your willingness to surrender to him.

Tom’s hands traveled to your shirt. His movements were deliberate as he was yielding each button to his touch as if surrendering to his command. You felt the fabric parts, revealing the vulnerability beneath. Tom’s expression remaining composed. As the last button succumbed to his fingers, a rush of cold air met your exposed skin. His hands traced a path along the newly revealed expanse, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. The room seemed to pulse with a quiet intensity.

“You’re exquisite,” he whispered, his voice low and laden. Time seemed to stretch, and you found yourself suspended in a space where only two of you existed. 

When Tom started sucking on your nipple, a soft whimper came out of your lips. He smiled softly at your response and showed no intention of stopping. His actions continued with

unyielding determination, his tongue hot and wet on your willing breasts. His hands all over your exposed body, tracing patterns on your soft skin, making you lose your mind, making you forget yourself and forget all these bright days spent without him. With skilled fingers Tom unbuttoned your skirt, taking it off in one swift movement, leaving you almost naked, while he remained fully clothed, a stoic figure in his unchanging black attire, a stark contrast to the vulnerability he teased from you with every touch. You wanted to touch him too, make him feel as good as you felt yet your yearning to caress Tom was met with a playful denial, as he savoured the moments of teasing, drawing out the anticipation. 

His fingers exploring the thin material of your underwear, the gentle touches felt as light as a feather, igniting a trail of sensations. Relentlessly, he continued as his hands grew bolder and bolder. Silver rings on his fingers warm on your skin. Oh, how you wanted him inside you already. To feel him in the most intimate way possible. “Please, Tom,” you moaned, and started to grind on the bulge in his pants, desperate for more, fire running through your veins. At this point it was a pure torture, not to have Tom inside you.

With surprising ease, Tom flipped you onto your back, unbuttoned his unpleasantly tight pants and guided the head of his penis into your hot entrance. As you merged into one, a profound sense of belonging washed over you, a feeling you had yearned for so long. A solitary tear trailed down your cheek, carrying the weight of unspoken emotions. He penetrated you with raw force, driving you to the edge of ecstasy with every continuous stroke. It was raw, characterised by the relentless pursuit of desire, teeth digging into tender flesh, and unyielding grips that promised bruises by dawn. Despite the roughness, every moment was a symphony of pleasure you couldn't get enough of. When you both came, your back arched, the sound of a soft moan escaped your lips, but it dissolved into the heated intensity as Tom claimed your mouth once more

The room was saturated with the lingering echoes of passion as you lay on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his laboured breaths. His skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, an aftermath of the intense encounter. Tom's hand traced soothing patterns on your back with rhythmic strokes, creating a sense of comfort.

"I love you," you whispered, the words escaping your lips like a confession, an unfiltered truth that hung in the air. The vulnerability of the moment lay bare in the quiet aftermath.

A beat passed before Tom’s lips curved into a mocking smile as he listened to your heartfelt declaration. With a calculated nonchalance, he leaned down and pressed a cold, indifferent kiss to your lips. It was a kiss that tasted of detachment, a bitter irony wrapped in the guise of a tender moment. Breaking away, he looked into your eyes, the amusement evident in his gaze. "Silly little girl," he said with a dismissive chuckle. Tom's words, delivered with a cold detachment, lingered in the air, settling like a heavy curtain that draped the room in a somber reality. The silence that followed carried the weight of your shattered expectations, and in that moment, the intimacy you had shared seemed like a fleeting illusion. You felt stupid. The vulnerability you had exposed, the love you had confessed—all reduced to insignificance by the stark revelation of his indifference.

In the aftermath of Tom's callous dismissal, a bitter truth settled upon you like an indelible stain. The daylight hours were not meant for you. The warmth shared in the night, the whispered confessions, and stolen kisses were facets of a reality carefully curated by him—a reality where you were permitted only under the cloak of darkness.

In the wake of this revelation, the weight of your unrequited emotions became palpable, each heartbeat a reminder of the divide between the two worlds you inhabited with Tom. The nights were yours, a realm where he seemed to embrace you, but the days belonged to a version of him that eluded your understanding. Regrettably, you accepted the truth that, in Tom's realm, you were fated to be merely a passing shadow; you were his, but he wasn't yours, and he never would be. He belonged to no one else but himself. 

In the symphony of darkness, your presence is my favourite note. Until the night claims us again, know that you exist, a cherished memory in the sanctuary of my thoughts. Yours in the shadows,

T.M.R.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

you can find more of my works about tom ♡here♡

♡ (fluffy) harry x draco headcanons ♡

before they got together, Draco obsessively read every article about Harry in the Daily Prophet (not that he'd ever admit it)

he even stole his mother's Witch Weekly to read about Harry once (or twice)

so...he's positively obsessed about Potter, though he may need some time to truly understand the nature of his obsessiveness towards him

but when he does (!) (!) (!)

for Harry it's different. he's pining for Draco for a long time, but he's scared to do something about it; it's Draco Malfoy we are talking about after all

so he just watches from distance, getting grumpy, then hopeful and then grumpy again

they start small; talking about quidditch. A LOT (they play it a lot too, even when it's only two of them)

may I add they are both fiercely competitive during it? or during everything really??

a quick game of snap may turn into a bloodshed (and they both cheat shamelessly when losing)

they also work out together and turn it into a competition as well (duhh)—who can lift more, who can run faster, etc

Draco knows exactly how to push Harry's buttons, effortlessly getting a rise out of him; it helps him when he wants to distract Harry (and win), but mostly he does it because Harry's reaction to these little provocations are so fucking adorable

Harry often blushes too; at Draco's bluntness (which is also adorable)

Draco simply can't take his eyes out of Potter, and his little, cold heart ache whenever Harry looks at him softly, with those eyes of his

actually he could stare at him for hours, but he feels like a bit of a creep for it, so he often does it while Harry is asleep (still acting like a creep if you ask me)

Harry opens up to Draco first, he's so painfully genuine that Malfoy has no other option but open up as well

it turns out it's not that bad; opening up to somebody he cares about

and sometimes it scares him how much he cares

so...yes Draco is positively smitten with Harry

he's even willing to accept the Weasel in their life for the sake of Harry (which should speak volumes!)

Draco is taking Harry out to dinner often, always insisting on paying (a true gentleman through and through). it's his way of spoiling Harry and showing his affection, despite Harry's protests

and when they are alone...

they can't keep their hands off each other, and even the softest kiss can quickly escalate (!)

speaking about kissing; Draco loses his mind whenever Harry kisses him, completely overwhelmed

and when his hand start trailing over his body, moving lower and lower, Draco's breath catches

as I said they can't keep their hands off each other :)

at night Harry clings to Draco lovingly, despite Draco's mock complaints

but when Harry is not with him and he has the bed all for himself he can't sleep at all, he feels lonely and miss Harry like crazy (the feeling's mutual)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

i love them your honor and i will die on this hill

*currently re-reading my favourite drarry fanfictions and having a time of my life*

you can find more of my works about draco ♡here♡

Viktor Krum Imagine

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Viktor Krum & Reader

Summary: When the tournament is about to happen, on what will he concentrate? The competition or certain Slytherin?

Part 1

Word Count: 1176

The Triwizard Tournament

The Triwizard Tournament was definitely not something you’d expect to start your school year with. Being chosen in your fifth year as a Slytherin prefect, you have been given extra authority and responsibilities. Before the Welcoming Feast started, you and other prefects were called by Dumbledore.

Meeting

-The greatest contest is to happen. Stated Dumbledore The Triwizard Tournament will be held at Hogwarts. We are welcoming students and the Headmaster from Durmstrang Institute and Headmistress from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. All professors and I will be entirely occupied during this time. That is why I put most of the responsibilities on you guys. I would like to inform you that the prefect from Slytherin Y/N Y/S/N will guide students from Durmstrang Institute, and the prefect from Ravenclaw Septima Marlen for Beauxbatons Academy. In contrast, prefects from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff will cower their turns in patrols.

Your breath stopped hearing about Durmstrang Institute… It was always your dream to study there. Someone would say that you are mental for wanting to study at the school where Dark Arts are accepted, but you were interested in them. As you like to say, magic is still magic whether it is dark or not. You’ve grown in a family with a strict upbringing. Your father studied there. That is why there was no playing around, the word of the elders is the law, and you are up to do whatever you were told. You didn’t see anything bad in it. Your parents give you all the best, in exchange you tried to be the best version of yourself. You were taught manners. You were intelligent, strong, and independent. You were not afraid to say anything to anyone as you knew your worth. Not like you don’t like at Hogwarts, it’s just too much fun here? Definitely a Slytherin…

- Miss Y/S/N and Miss Septima! Dumbledore put you out from your trance. After the feast, I would kindly ask you to take our guests to where they will be staying. Oh, and please, tell them the rules. He asked you with the slight smile on his face

And the feast began

After Dumbledore's speech, the students from Beauxbatons Academy following Madame Olympe Maxime entered the Great Hall. All ladies like snowflakes. Elegant, gentle, soft, simply perfection in boy's eyes.

Ew, what a performance… (might vomit) you thought, watching at them running around and releasing butterflies.

Right after, there were the Durmstrang boys.

And oh boy, that's the show.

A loud roar from the thump of the staff was heard throughout the hall. Sparks fly across the floor. Everyone became tense. After the Huge fiery phoenix was released following Viktor Krums and Igor Karkaroffs entrance, everyone became silent.

Powerful, strong, intimidating… The aura around them is unbearable. Oh, Merlin, you wish to be them.

After the feast, Dumbledore called Marlen and you to accomplish your duties.

Durmstrang boys were standing in a circle talking with their Headmaster when a slight cough caught their attention. They turned around to see you standing in front of them.

- My name is Y/N Y/S/N. I’m a prefect of the House of Salazar Slytherin. I have to fill you in on whatever is going on. Follow me! …you said it slowly (almost like Snape does) without showing any emotion on your face. Oh, and listen carefully to what I’m going to say next because I don’t like to repeat myself.

Boys were finding it rather hard to follow what you were saying and try to keep up as you were walking pretty fast.

- During your stay here, you are like other students, need to follow specific rules…

Someone scoffed behind you and chuckled

- Did I say something funny? You turned around facing Durmstrang Headmaster, smirking to himself

- Indeed you did!

- Mind explaining, sir?

- Funny to hear about “following the rules” from a Slytherin itself.

- May I remind you, sir, that I’m a prefect! You slowly stepped closer to him, looking him straight in the eyes. And I have to make sure that rules are being followed. Not like you would follow one… Or should I inform my Headmaster that there are problems here?

Everyone froze for a moment because of your boldness, afraid that something might happen.

- You little… he hissed at you but after calmed himself and said – No problems here

- Great! And I kindly ask you to not interrupt me anymore. As I was saying, THE RULES!!! Dark Forest and Black Lake are forbidden! Unless you are willing to die. Some rooms and Grand Staircase tend to move around, so I would accompany you all in your first week to all classes you need. As you are studying on your own, your classes will be later, so before them, you can train.

- Where can we train? Asked one of Durmstrang boys.

- Training grounds. There is also a full-size Quidditch Pitch if you need it, but first, you need to reserve it. But about that later. At that moment, you all stopped in front of the giant ship. Wake up at 7, breakfast at 8:30, which means at 8:10 I will be waiting for you here. Understood?

- Yes!

- Great. Any questions?

- Me! I have one! Shouted one of the boys

- Go ahead, ask. You said annoyingly…

- Do you have a boyfriend?

- Really? Don’t waste my time with something like that. You signed, looking at the ground and rubbing your forehead

- Sorry! He said, making everyone laugh

When you looked up, you immediately noticed how Viktor Krum was looking straight into your eyes with a smirk on his face, making you feel weird. Still, you stopped yourself from thinking more and looked away from him.

- If there is no more question... Oh, I almost forgot. Our school has a curfew, which means students will be in their dormitories in your case in the ship by 10:00pm. There will be an announcement made 1 hour, 30 minutes, and 10 minutes before the curfew. Students also may not leave their common rooms in your case once again a ship until after 8:00am. Clear here?

- YES!!!

- Then I will take my leave, and you guys rest.

As you turned around to leave, you felt a tap on your shoulder. When you looked back, you saw the guy who asked you about you having a boyfriend standing there.

- Something wrong? You asked

- No, uhm… I was wondering if it’s okay for you to get back to the castle all alone at such hour. May I accompany you? He tried flirting

- Didn’t I just tell you about curfew? Only I allowed be here at such time. Or would you like detention?

- No, sorry. Be safe! He turned around and got back to his friends, who once again were laughing at him. But then you saw Viktor staying nearby. He smirked at you once again and left.

You just scoffed and started going to the Castel once again, thinking about all that was happening.

Viktor Krum imagine

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Viktor Krum & Reader

Summary: When the tournament is about to happen, on what will he concentrate? The competition or certain Slytherin?

Part 2

Part 1

Word Count: 1161

-What a magical morning!!! Wakey, my darling! Your best friend cheerfully screams in your ear, trying to wake you up.

Mornings… You simply hate them. If not for your best friend, you would have been late for all of your morning classes. Still not sure how I become a prefect.

- I swear to Merlin, if you don't shut up, I will use cruciatus curse on you! You cover your face with a pillow

- I know you won't, and I also know that you love me so much that you are going to get me Krum's autograph!

- Pumpkin, I do love you, but I'm not getting you one.

You stand up and start getting ready for a day. Usually, you would still be sleeping, but today you should get Durmstrang boys into the Great Hall. Lucky I (eye roll). After you get ready, you leave to go to the Black Lake.

When you get there, 5 minutes are left before you, and the boys are supposed to head back to the castle. The first one getting out of the ship was Viktor. He smiled at you, saying:

-Good morning!

-Not so sure if it's good for me. Seems like you slept well?

-I did! Seems like you didn't?

Before you could answer him, his friend ran to both of you. It was the guy who flirted with you yesterday

-What a lovely morning seeing such a beautiful girl! Miss, you made my day!

-You again? Always so cheerful?

-Is it a bad thing? He asked concerned

-I would call it rather annoying than bad. You remind me of my friend who is just like you

-And you remind me of him! He patted Viktors' shoulder. Just like an iceberg, always cold and emotionless

-I would take it as a compliment

Just when you finished talking, the others got on the ground

-Is everyone here?

-YES!!!

-Then follow me

As you were going up the slope to the castle, you told boys about some of the professors and your Scholl's houses. Since the morning was quite chill, the grass was slippery because of the dew. At one moment, you slipped and were ready to fall when two strong arms caught you. It was Victor… When you straitened your posture, you thanked him with a slight smile on your face. You continued telling all the information they were interested in. Victor's friend looked at him, seeing him blushing and smiling from ear to ear. Oh, something is definitely going on here…

Before you entered Great Hall, you said:

-As you are not sorted in any Houses, it means that you can eat at any table you like.

-Can I sit with you? Asked Victor's friend

-No, the seat is already taken. From now on, you are on your own before lessons start.

-Thank you! Said Victor, giving you a warm smile

-You welcome!

You entered the Great Hall already spotting your best friend

-Where are they? Was the first thing she said to you?

-Who?

-Don't play stupid, the boys from Durmstrang/

-Why should I know?

-What do you mean why? You were supposed to ask them to sit with us!

-No, I'm not, and stop with that. They will sit wherever they want.

You heard girls screaming as Durmstrang boys entered the Great Hall. You rolled your eyes and continued eating your breakfast

-No, no, no, why are they going there? Why with Gryffindor's? Your heard your best friend’s cry

-Lia, c'mon, you don't need them. You have Sebastian!

-But it's not the same… In comparison with them, he is just a boy.

-He is the same age as we are, and those bricks are only one year older

-That's why they are perfect

-Oh Merlin, help me…

After breakfast, you came to them to let them know that your classes were starting, and during that time, they could go and explore the castle a little.

After classes

You and Lia were walking down one of the corridors when you almost crashed into someone. The four of you stopped looking at each other before Victor's friend broke the silence

-Miss Y/S/N! Glad to see you. I already missed you

-Sorry, but not mutual.

Victor laughed at your remark while your best friend looked at you angrily

-Oh, my apologies. My name is Dragomir Ivanov. He introduces himself to your friend bowing to her

My name is Gillian Rebekha Morgan. But friends call me Lia. She smiles sweetly at him

For them, the world around them stopped. Both were looking at each other's eyes as there was the unspoken universe. You and Viktor was looking at yours fiends awkwardly avoiding each other gaze until you broke the silence by clearing your throat. Viktor turns to you and ask:

-Y/N, if it's not a problem, I would kindly ask you to show me where the dungeon is. Someone said that professor Snape could help me learn something.

-Yeah, sure, let's go.

And you left with Victor following you leaving your best friend to have the time of her life.

-May I ask you something? Asked Victor

-Yes, go on!

-Are you rooting for someone already?

-Pardon?

-I mean, are you rooting for someone from your school.

-Oh, probably no. I don't think of this tournament as a friendly competition. People died…

- ​I'm going to throw my name in the Goblet of Fire tomorrow. Will you come and support me?

-Are you at least good?

-Why don’t you just check it out yourself? Dragomir and I are having practice tomorrow. Get your friend too. Dragomir probably will be happy about it.

-Not like you already have a cheerleader team to support you.

- ​Pardon? He asked confused.

- ​You know, all the girls following you around.

-​Oh… You were talking about them. He said rather shy while rubbing the beck of his neck

- ​Mhm! You nodded at him

“But still, they are not you” He thought to himself

-​I will think about it. And we are here. The Dungeon

-Thank you, I will see you during dinner. Bye!

-Bye!

Why would he ask me to come, out of all? Is that really that important for him? Should I come? Millions of thoughts were running through your mind at that moment. Never in your life were you asked by boys, and if you were, you had to reject all of them, as they were simply not enough for your parents liking. Should you tell them about Victor? But there is nothing to tell. You guys are not even friends. Little did you know that Victor had already developed a little crush on you…

Viktor Krum imagine

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Viktor Krum & Reader

Summary: When the tournament is about to happen, on what will he concentrate? The competition or certain Slytherin?

Part 3

Part 2

Part 1

Word Count: 1140

After your Apparition class and little collision with Viktor and Dragomir, you went straight to the library to try to cope with the vast amounts of homework.

You were sitting in the library, who knows for how long, when someone tapped you on the shoulder making you startled. When you turned around, it was Viktor who smiled apologetically.

-Sorry. He said

-It's okay. Is something wrong?

-No, actually, I was a little concerned when I hadn't seen you in the Great Hall.

-Ohh.. Is it already time for dinner? What time is it?

-The diner is almost over, and you better not skip it.

-Thanks for telling. You smiled at him a little and started gathering your thing

-Mind if I carry it for you?

-No, no, its okay I can carry it myself.

-I must insist.

-Ehm, I guess it's okay. Here.

You handed him the bag. When he was grabbing the bag, his fingers touched yours, making both of you look at each other and look away immediately after that.

-So, you like it here? You tried to break the silence while you were going to the Great Hall

-I do. The views are incredible. And the students are very welcoming. I mean not all…

He said it looking at you, making you both laughing

-Oh really??? I was actually trying to be nice to all of you. You could have appreciated it!

-I do. I mean, I appreciate it

-Glad to hear it.

-Let's go. I saved you a seat.

He said, entering the great hall and heading towards your usual seat. You spotted Lia with Dragomir already sitting together and not taking eyes from each other. A couple of seats from them sat Sebastian, who was looking at Dragomir like he was ready to tear him apart.

*Sebastian Rosier (have a crush on Lia)

-Hi guys! You greeted everyone sitting beside Viktor.

-Where were you? I couldn't find you. Asked Lia

-I was at the library, where I could be else

-Oh, I forgot about it. Glad that Viktor found you. She said, smirking, looking at both of you.

By the end of dinner, you and Victor hadn't said a single word to each other. You were only listening to Lia and Dragomir chatting with each other about everything in the world. When you finish, you get up, making everyone look at you.

-Leaving already? Asked Lia

-Yeah, I need to do something before going to bed. You said, trying to avoid more questions and left immediately.

Lia understood what you were talking about, trying not to show how worried she actually was. Viktor and Dragomir see that but decide to leave it. Viktor was a little disappointed because he wanted to spend more time with you, but seems like you were in a rush.

You were rushing to the class that no one was lately using, skipping steps, hardly breathing. When you approached the classroom, you stopped for a second to breathe in and out, calming yourself down. When you entered the classroom, no one was there until you heard a slight sound behind you, making you turn immediately, pointing your wand at the person who had already pointed his wand at you.

-Let's lower our wands. We don't want to hurt each other, are we?

-Are we? You said sarcastically. Deep inside, you knew that meeting him that not the best idea

-What was your surname again?

- It's Y/S/N, but you already know that. That's why you asked me to meet you.

-I know your father. You are just like him! Arrogant, full of yourself, and lacking of manners.

-You sure you are talking about me? Seems like you describing yourself, sir.

- I'm the headmaster of Durmstrang Institute, and you are just another little student here. How dare you talk to me like that?

-Knowing all your doings, I will talk to you just how I want.

-And what doings exactly you are talking about

-Just know that my father told me enough

You were about to leave when you heard him say:

-Stay away from Viktor. Whatever he found in you will distract him from the tournament. You don't want your father to hear some bad news about his only daughter.

You stopped on your track and replied

-You better worry about my father hearing that some psycho prisoner caught by him is threatening his one and only beloved daughter. In that case, not even Dumbledore would be able to stop him.

You smirked, leaving the room, making sure no one had seen you. As you were walking to your common room, you saw Viktor leaving Great Hall with his group mates. Not thinking twice, you quickly hide behind one of the columns. You asked yourself, "Am I really a distraction? What if he gets hurt because of me? But I haven't even done anything yet." As you looked once again, he already was not there, making you sight in relief. With a head full of thoughts, you went to your bedroom. When you entered, you spotted Lia on your bed playing with your cat.

-I told you already, you can have him.

-I know, but he seems to like your bed more… She said, disappointed

- And why so?

-I have no idea

-But I do

-Really? Enlighten me, your majesty!

-Like you don't know. Your bed is full of daggers and knives. It scares him! Are those even legal here?

-Of course not, but you know me, those are my babies, and besides, Dumbledore knows.

-What? How?

-My father asked him. He assured him that they were purely for training and no one would get hurt.

-Well, I see the point. You both laughed because of it and stopped when Lia asked you:

-Are you going to come tomorrow? To practice?

-Ohh seems like Dragomir is already on the game. You said smiling

-Of course, he is. It's not like they are here forever. We will try to spend as much time as we can.

-Lia, it's been only one single day, and you almost got married to him.

-Well, I would definitely wait for our first night

-You naughty! You both start laughing

-Sooooo, will you come? Or Viktor did not interest you?

-I don't know. If I will have time.

-Come on, we will see them training, UPCLOSE.

-Why waste time? I'm sure that we training harder than they do, it's just pointless

-Don't be sour, my sweet candy! Let's sleep. Tomorrow is a big day!

Viktor Krum imagine

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Viktor Krum & Reader

Summary: When the tournament is about to happen, on what will he concentrate? The competition or certain Slytherin?

Part 4

Part 3

Part 2

Part 1

Word Count: 1680

The rays of the sun were hugging your body. So warmly, tenderly, and relaxing. The wind blew lightly, gently, as if it did not want to harm you. Eternal. You were standing at the end of the cliff. Suddenly someone wraps their arms around you, putting his head at the crock of your neck.

- You know that right now, you look like a fallen angel? Can't believe that I have you in my arms. My gift from above. He whispered in your ear

- Thank you! You smiled and turned around, facing the person who hugged you. – You always speak those beautiful words making my heart beat even faster for you… Viktor, I can't stop falling for you. You caressed his cheek, putting a small peck on it. You were about to put your lips on his when you heard

- Oi, sleepy princess, which prince are you kissing.

What?

You opened your eyes and saw Lia sitting on your bed, who kept laughing at you.

- Are you going to stop? My ears hurt. You said, as you got annoyed that someone ruined your sleep

- No way!!! I will remind you of this for the rest of your life. She said while standing from your bed and heading towards hers.

You both start getting ready for the day. You were done with your hair and decided to put on lipstick today. Why so?

- Are you trying to make your dream come true?

- What?

- I mean, you never put lipstick on. She said as she left your room, giggling to herself.

You didn't have time to take it off, so you left it, leaving it the way it was. You caught up with Lia, and you both entered the Great Hall for breakfast. You were heading towards your usual spot when you spotted Victor and his other friends already sitting there. When you came closer, Dragomir welcomed you both, making all turn their attention to you both.

- Good morning, beautiful ladies! Lia, come here! I saved you a seat.

As Victor sees you, he stands up, making you giggle a little. What a gentleman…

- Mind if I sit here? You asked him, pointing at the small space beside him as there was nowhere else to sit.

- No, not at all. You can sit here or somewhere else more comfortable.

What??? Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at Viktor in disbelieve. Lia choked on her juice, thinking Viktor wanted you to sit on his lap. Dragomir opened his mouth, not knowing what to do or what to say. You pretended as if nothing happened when you realized that Victor didn't mean it that way. You start eating, so does everyone else. The classes are about to start, so you had to drag Lia with you as she didn't want to leave Dragomir.

Viktor pov:

- Man, I didn't know you could flirt. Dragomir smirks towards Viktor

- What do you mean?

- You literally asked her to sit on your lap

- What? But I didn't. I-I just asked maybe she wanted to sit beside someone else.

- There was no space left, which means she would sit very close to you or on your lap.

- B-but I didn't…

- Yeah yeah, like I would believe you, just admit that you learned it from me.

Y/N pov:

- I still can believe that he said it!!! I was thinking of him as a restrained type of person? You know like public affection is not for him. Lia was ranting about the situation that happened during breakfast. At the same time, you tried to calm yourself as to not give yourself false hopes.

- He didn't mean it that way. His English is far from perfect. I'm sure we all misunderstood him.

- Or he simply flirted with you.

- Okay, stop. You both stopped on your track. What do you think you are doing? You asked her, already feeling furious.

- I'm trying to tell you that he likes you, and all you do is deny something as clear as the sky.

- No, he doesn't like me! He is a worldwide Quidditch star. Do you think he will waste his time on me? Well, the answer is no. He is about to compete in deadly competition, and I will distract him. So let's not talk about it anymore? Okay?

- Is that what he told you?

- Who?

- Karkaroff? That you will be a distraction.

- No…

- Don't you dare lie to me, missy. I know you like the back of my hand. And your problems are mine too. It's how it always was. So?

- Okay, okay, yes! That is what Karkaroff told me.

- Did he threaten you?

- Not really. I, mean I handled that

- You should tell Dumbledore about it. Or I can use one of my daggers. You know, just in case?

- Don't be silly! Use your skills somewhere else.

- Actually about that? The practice? Remember? Are you coming?

- I don't know. We still have classes, so let's talk about it later.

After classes

You and Lia were leaving your classroom after you studied ancient runic scripts. Then suddenly, Dragomir appeared in front of you two.

- And where do you think you are going? You promised to come to our practice.

- She did, I didn't. So I will take my leave.

- Oi, don't go! Viktor is waiting for you. He will kill me if you don't come. The last part he mumbled to himself

- Still not going!

- Come on, pretty please! It's just for an hour.

- Please. This time Lia asked you, looking at you with her puppy eyes. That's impossible to say no to that look

- Okay, fine, bit for an hour.

- Yeeesss!!! The both of them scream and hug each other.

They walked before you, leaving you following them as you spotted Sebastian looking upset, seeing Lia holding hands with Dragomir. You waved to him, and he returned the gesture with a sad smile. Lia turns her head, seeing you waving at someone. She waved at Sebastian as well, but he ignored her and left. That's clearly upset her. They both were friends, but we all knew about his romantic feelings towards her. But Lia can't stop but fall for every attractive male but Sebastian. You feel bad for the guy, because he was really sweat and caring.

As you reach training grounds, you spot Viktor sparing with other boys from Durmstrang. Your eyes lit up. This is where your heart lies. After your dad told you about his times in Durmstrang, he saw how interested you were in learning more. You start asking a bunch of questions, and most of them are about sparing. Your dad taught you physical fight even though your mom was against it. You were training every day so hard that you wouldn't leave unless your body was covered in bruises. This was your passion. While watching the two males fighting, you saw how another boy was slowly losing to Viktor. And after a little while, he lost. Viktor turns and sees you not so far from him sitting at the bench with Lia. He ran up to you with a smile on his face.

- So what do you say? Am I good enough?

- She is better than you! Lia said with a smirk on her face

- Sorry? He asked her

- Y/N, she is better than you. I bet she can win you over in less than a minute.

- Oh really? Why don't you prove it? He challenged you

- I don't need to prove anything to anyone. I know I'm better than you. You said confidently, looking Viktor straight in the eyes.

- I would like to see that. Said Dragomir as he joined your group

- So? Asked Viktor. Let me see

- But don't cry after I win.

- Let's see who will cry at the end!

You entered the ring, and other students looked at you, gathering around.

- Look, I won't be harsh on you. I don't want to hurt you.

- Oh please, don't be a gentleman inside the ring. Do your best. I can handle myself.

And the fight starts. He grabbed your shoulder and tried taking you down by kicking your leg. But you were fast enough to grab his arm and throw him over your shoulder and sit on top of him so he won't move. You laugh at his amused expression and stand up, offering your hand for him to grab. He took your hand and stood up.

- You're strong but slow. Work harder on that. I got to go. See you around.

He stood speechless, watching you grabbing your bag and leaving. Lia came and said:

- I told you! Now, Dragomir, show me your skills!

- Don't tell me you can fight too?

- I mean… I can, but I'm better with daggers. She smiled sweetly, making Dragomir gulp.

At Great Hall

You and Lia were sitting at the bench watching students throwing their names at Goblet of Fire. You thought why someone would agree to something as dangerous as this. Your thoughts were interrupted by Wesley twins' fighting over whose fault it was that they get old. But not so long after, Viktor and Dragomir entered the hall. Students became silent and stepped away, making them a way to Goblet. Viktor saw you and approached you.

- Decided? Will you root for me?

- Already. Wishing you good luck, champion. You said it with a smirk on your face.

Victor smirked and went to the Goblet. He looks at you once again and throws his name. You blushed and turned your head to the side. He left with students cheering on him. Not so long after, you with your best friend left too.

Viktor Krum imagine

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Viktor Krum & Reader

Summary: When the tournament is about to happen, on what will he concentrate? The competition or certain Slytherin?

Part 5

Part 4

Part 3

Part 2

Part 1

Word Count: 2615

The following day, you wake up earlier than usual because you had a meeting with other prefects. Since the week coming to an end, you are supposed to reorganize your duties because you no longer have to accompany Durmstrang students. Not that they needed your help before. You helped them only 2 or 3 times, as they had enough fans to help them. From now on, you had to patrol hallways to ensure that other students were not breaking curfew. This means you no longer will have much time to spend with Viktor. Speaking of him. He was a little concerned as you didn't show up at breakfast. That's why he rushed after Lia trying to catch up with her as she exited Great Hall.

- Hey, Lia, wait! He shouted across the corridor and run-up to her.

Lia stopped on her track, turning towards Viktor

- Oi, hey there, lover boy! She smirked, greeting him.

- Um... Do you perhaps know why Y/N didn't show up at breakfast? Nothing happened, right?

- Of course not. She had a meeting with other prefects. That's why she skipped breakfast. Anyway, I've to go, my classes are about to start.

- Yeah, sure, thanks. Have a great day!

- You too. She was about to turn around when she remembered something. –Viktor! Wait!

- Yes?

- I have Ancient Runes now, and Y/N has Defence Against the Dark Arts class, but she forgot her book. Mind giving it to her?

- Gladly. He said, smiling at the opportunity to see you again.

- The classroom is on the third floor. Do you know where it is?

- Yes, I was there already. See you! Oh, and Dragomir will wait for you after class. He said smiling

As Viktor left, Lia headed towards her Ancient Runes classroom. At the entrance stood Sebastian with some girl. Who is she? Lia asked herself.

When she approached them, she greeted Sebastian, but he just scoffed and entered their classroom. Lia went after him, not knowing what had happened. Why is he ignoring her all of a sudden? Unlike usual, he didn't take a seat with her. Instead, he took a seat at the far corner with the girl he was talking to. Lia's heart shrinks seeing him smiling and talking with the girl. She is not the one who will wait patiently unless he decides to speak to her again. That's why she went to him.

- What's going on? Why are you ignoring me? He knew she was angry, but he was hurt.

- It's none of your business.

- Of course, it's my business. You are my best friend.

- That's the point. He fired back

- What do you mean by that?

Before he could answer professor entered the classroom and asked everyone to get a seat. Lia left with a scoff seeing Sebastian looking everywhere but her. But when she sat at her desk and looked at a chair where Sebastian usually sits, she felt emptiness inside her. Sebastian couldn't stop looking at Lia's back as he missed how she would lean on him and lay her head on his shoulder because she was usually still sleepy as it was their first class.

Y/N P.O.V

I was standing in front of my classroom, searching for the book in my bag. Then you realized that you forgot it on your bad. You turn around to leave for your dorm when you see Viktor coming your way with the book in his hand.

- Hey! He greeted you with a smile

- Hi! You returned the smile

- Here, Lia asked me to give it to you. He handed you a book.

- Thank you! I was just looking for it. You said excitedly.

- You welcome! Go inside, or you will be late.

- Oh, yeah, umm, I guess bye, see you.

- Have a great day!

- You too!

You turn around immediately, not wanting him to see your blushing face. You got to your desk and started taking out some necessities for class. Your heart was racing like a wild animal. Ohhh… What's that feeling? Why do I feel like that? Your thoughts were interrupted by the professor. You tried to concentrate, but how could you…

After classes

You were walking on your way to the dungeon when you spotted Sebastian standing all alone with a sad face. You decided to talk to him.

- Hey… How are you? You asked concerned

- How do you think I am?

- Sorry… You said apologetically

- No, don't apologize, it's okay. I am already used to it. He said irritated

- Please don't say that.

- But it's true! She always dumps me for her permanent crushes. I'm so tired of it I just, I'm, I…

You saw him trembling and stuttering. That's why you grabbed his hands and pulled him in the hug.

Lia's P.O.V

I was walking down the corridor after my last class. My mind was clouded, my body felt heavy, my thoughts were racing to Sebastian all the time. Dragomir was there for me the whole day, trying to cheer me up, but he left for practice earlier, leaving me and my thoughts all alone. It felt like the quilt was eating me alive. I couldn't concentrate on any of my classes, always looking at the back of the class only to see Sebastian either taking notes or whispering something to that girl. But why do I feel this way?

You almost bump into someone making you raise your head to look at your surroundings. First, you spotted Viktor coming your way. When he reached you, you greeted him, forcing a smile on your face.

- Hey. He said enthusiastically, but then his smile faded away seeing your face. Are you okay? He asked concern

- Yeah, I'm, it's nothing, I promise. You smile at him, reassuring him everything is fine. –Oi, did you give Y/N the book back.

- Yes, I did, don't worry. By the way, do you perhaps know where she is? I wanted to ask her to come to the practice. He smiles, thinking about you

- Not really. I was at the library, and she wasn't there. She is either at dorm or…

Lia turned her head to look through the Courtyard as she knew that you liked to sit near the fountain and read, but only was met with you hugging Sebastian? Her face dropped… Viktor saw that happened and turned his head in the direction where Lia was facing. His smile dropped too. They saw how tight you were hugging each other and not letting go for a long time.

Viktor's hopes were crashed after what he saw. He believed that he could have a chance, but... Lia looks at Viktor, knowing that you and Sebastian are just friends, even though now she is unsure of It herself. She saw how his disappointed face turned into an angry one. She looked back at you both, seeing you caressing his face. She knew by the look of Viktor’s face something terrible could happen. That's why she grabbed his arm and dragged him towards training grounds. She stopped him when they almost were there and said.

- Look, I know you probably won't believe me, but they are not together. I would have known if they were. She said, trying to reassure him and maybe even herself.

- Maybe they just got together. You saw it with your own eyes. Friend don't hug each other like that (p.s. - jealous much)

- Look, I know she likes you, trusts me. She can act all cold and cool, but I can see through her. She may not even realize her feelings herself, but try to talk to her. I hope we just misunderstood everything.

Viktor thinks for a second. His rage almost got over him. Maybe she was right, and I should just talk to Y/N. At least I would clear everything out between us.

- Yeah, I guess you are right. I should go. The practice has already started.

- Good luck! And try not to think about it much.

- See you at dinner!

And he left, leaving his and Lia's thoughts to crawl back.

Y/N P.O.V

Sebastian and I were standing like that for a good minute. I was afraid to let him go, thinking that he might break like fragile china, as he was shaking so much. After some time, he calmed a little and freed himself from the hug.

- I'm sorry. He said with regret lingering on his face

- No, don't apologize for something like that. You put your hand, wiping his tears away. Look, sooner or later, you guys will figure everything out. I know that deep inside, she loves you as much as you love her. Maybe she needs time to realize that. Or some actions. Who knows what's going on inside that girl's head? You both laughed at the last comment knowing how empty-headed Lia can sometimes be.

- Thank you! You helped a lot.

- That's nothing. Promise not to cry anymore.

- Okay. He smiled shyly.

- Oh, keep going, smile more. Someone will fall in love with that smile.

- I hope she will.

You both parted your ways. You didn't have much time left before dinner, so you went straight to your dormitory. When you get inside, you see Lia sitting on her bad, head-hanging law.

- Hey, what's wrong? Who do I need to kill?

- Are you hiding something from me?

- What? Of course not. You probably know me better than I do.

- Then what's between you and Seb. Viktor and I saw you hugging the life out of each other and how you were caressing his face. It's because I rejected him, and you wanted to stay away from Viktor?

- What are you even saying?! That boy back there literally cried his heart out because of you. And you assuming something like that.

- What do you expect me to think? You should have seen you both from aside. I thought Viktor would kill Sebastian if he stayed there a little longer.

Viktor was angry? Was he disappointed in me? What should I do? I need to clear everything out. Lia saw how you get distracted. She realized that you started thinking about Viktor.

- Hey. She brings you back from your trans. - I told him you are only friends, but I'm not sure if that's enough. Just talk to each other, and you will clear everything out.

- Oh, yeah, thanks. You also speak to Seb.

- How can i. He completely ignores me. Not even sparing me a look. She said, clearly disappointed

- That's because he is angry with himself. Once again, he let himself give you a chance. Lia, everyone knows that he likes you. And I know you, you want him too. Why are you doing this to him?

- I don't deserve someone like him. Tomorrow I might fall for another boy and forget about Dragomir in a second. I can't let that happen with Seb. I don't want to forget him. I want him to always be with me. We better be friends

- Then stop giving him hope. He is suffering.

- If I stop, then he will disappear from my life. He already doing it…

At Great Hall

The dinner had already started, but Viktor was not there. After five minutes, boys from Durmstrang entered the Great Hall. Dragomir patted Viktor's shoulder and started going in our direction. But Viktor stood still. He looked at me but left to sit with other Durmstrang students at the far end of the Slytherin table. You realize that he probably wouldn't want to listen to you anymore.

- Hello ladies! How are you? He looked at our gloomy faces and realized it was not the best time. Em, enjoy your meal!

- Thank you. Lia answered, faking a smile

You couldn't eat as you didn't have any appetite. From time to time, you looked at Viktor and caught him staring at you back, but after he would catch your eyes at him, he would look away immediately. You wanted to walk away when suddenly Dumbledore entered the Great Hall with Barty Crouch Snr. They both come to the Goblet of Fire and whisper something to each other. And Dumbledore speak

- Now the moment you've all been waiting for, the champion selection.

He extinguished all the lights. Now, the hall was filled with a soft blue light. Dumbledore approached the Goblet and put his hands on it.

When he stepped away a second after, the fire changed from bright blue to fiery pink. And the first piece of paper flew up, landing on Dumbledore's hand. He read it and announce

- The Durmstrang champion is Viktor Krum.

Everything was in a blur for you. You heard fuzzy applause in the background. You saw how he was greeted by others. You felt happy for a moment seeing him smile, but after, your anxiety started to build up. Every thoughts were about him getting hurt. But now, there was no turnaround.

Viktor P.O.V

All dinner, I was watching Y/N, thinking how I should talk to her. I knew that she couldn't do something like this, but deep inside, there was a feeling of insecurity.

When Dumbledore entered the Great Hall, the boys and I knew what was about to happen. We gathered around and were waiting for the selection.

And that's it. I'm chosen. The boys greeted me, and everyone applauded, but I wanted someone special to congratulate me, but she wasn't there. When I looked at her, she was smiling at me, making me smile too. Now there was no turning back, and I decided to talk with her.

Y/N P.O.V.

When champions were announced, everyone started to exit the Great Hall whispering about Harry. You tried to find Viktor, but you couldn't when suddenly you felt someone grab your hand. It was Viktor. You breathe out, relieved to see him.

- Congratulations! You said with a smile

- Thank you! I just wanted to talk, but I don't have much time left, because I have to go soon.

- I know. Lia told me you saw Sebastian and me. I swear he is just my friend. I will explain the details later. I just don't want you to misunderstand the situation.

Viktor was relieved hearing it. He knew he could trust you.

- You don't have to say anything. Only if you want to. I just thought for a second that I had lost my lucky charm. He said with a sad smile

- What do you mean?

- Before I throw my name into the Goblet, I looked at you, and today I was chosen. That means you're my lucky charm.

- The honor is mine. You said sarcastically, making you both laugh at your remark.

- From now on, you are my lucky charm, and I'm not willing to share you with others. He said the last part quietly, only for you to hear.

I felt at a loss for words. You were looking at him in disbelieve. You tried to answer, but nothing came to mind. Before you could answer, you were interrupted by Cedric

- Sorry to interrupt, but we all waiting for you. He said, looking at Viktor and leaving.

- I got to go. Have a goodnight and sweet dreams. He took your hand in his and placed a gentle kiss on it.

With that, he left, leaving you standing in place dumbfounded.

Viktor Krum imagine

Fandom: Harry Potter

Summary: When the tournament is about to happen, on what will he concentrate? The competition or certain Slytherin?

Part 6

Part 5

Part 4

Part 3

Part 2

Part 1

Word Count: ~2000

That night you tried to sleep but couldn't. The moment that happened minutes ago was racing through your mind. How gently he put his lips on your hands and how deeply he looked into your eyes after. The smile he ha had when he looked at you for the last time before exiting the Great Hall. That smile… If only you knew that you were not the only one thinking about what happened previously.

Viktor P.O.V

I was trying to get sleep, but how could I? She is the only thing I'm thinking about right now. Her bravery, power, beauty, everything about her is perfect. She reminds me of an angel. For me, she is the most significant accomplishment I want to achieve. Would I succeed?

Third P.O.V

He couldn't take it anymore, so he left the room he was sleeping into the ship's deck. The cold breeze awakened him even more. Viktor looked at the castle not so far from him. How genuinely magical everything felt here. His mind raced back to his school. Durmstrang. Only thinking about it gives him goosebumps. He liked it there, but every second he spent there was intense. On the other hand, at Hogwarts, he feels like he can breathe out in relief. Even deep at night, here was calm. He was pulled out from his thoughts when someone cleared their throat behind him. He was so occupied in thinking that he didn't spot his headmaster and Dumbledore coming out from the cabin, laughing at whatever Igor had said.

-Headmaster! He greeted him. Professor Dumbledore?

-Hello there, Viktor! Dumbledore greeted him. Your headmaster and I had a little reunion with a couple of drinks.

-I probably should take my leave. Viktor was ready to leave when his headmaster stopped him.

- What's on your mind, my champion?

Viktor opened his mouth to answer but closed it right away. He looked away, not knowing what to do or to say.

-The last time I was here, this man here asked me for one favor. He asked me to pay attention to little things. He said that only by observing those little things I wouldn't need any answers. That all my questions will be answered. I didn't think it would work, but it did. Said Igor

Viktor was like a son to Igor. Igor saw how Viktor changed in such a short period, how he was smiling more, how he would zoom out more. He was not full to see that boy that was slowly falling for a girl. He remembers that feeling himself. He wanted to warn Viktor. To protect him, but he knew well that's not up to him anymore. If Viktor wants something, he will get it.

-Headmaster, I-I... Viktor tried to object, but he knew he couldn't.

-Viktor, may I say. Dumbledore spoke. In a world full of magic, not a lot of things can impress us until we fall in love. A whole new world is opening its door to us. The magic of love is the most powerful thing you can experience. I wish you luck with that. Now, go to bed.

-Thank you, headmaster. I will. Goodnight!

Third P.O.V

-So, who is that girl? Dumbledore asked.

-Y/N Y/L/N. Igor said, feeling how anger was creeping inside him.

-Oh, my friend, don't be sour about it. The girl has nothing to do with your past.

-Her dad is. I can't help it.

-Igor, my dear friend, they are just kids. Let them have some fun!

-Not for long… Soon, they will have to grow up faster than we think.

-So it's happening? Is Tom getting back?

-Dumbledore, you are the wisest man I have met in my life. You helped me get through the bottomless hole you put me yourself. And I'm grateful for it. We might be on different sides, but you can count on me. Soon, that's all I know.

With that, the night flooded the lands of Hogwarts.

For the following week, the school was hectic, and everyone was going nuts talking about the championship that was about to happen. Even though Viktor was one of the Champions, he simply couldn't concentrate on the Tournament, since the only thing on his mind was you. With time he found courage in himself and started escorting you to all of your classes.

-You know, being a Seeker and being a team player in World Cup has its benefits. Viktor said, leaning his shoulder on the bookshelf in the library.

-Oh really? You said, smirking. Would you be so kind as to enlighten me?

-You got to meet lots of celebrities and people of high rank. They ask you to have an interview and make you the first-page headliner. Not to mention all the delicacies on the banquet table.

-Sounds fancy, but I've been there.

-You did?

-I did.

-Would you give me an honour and come with me the next time?

-Only if you win, because as far as I remember, your team lost this year?

-I caught the snitch.

-But still, you lost.

- I'm never losing. He comes closer to you, leaning with his hands on a table where you were sitting, hovering over you, and looking straight in the eyes. And I certainly won't lose my lucky charm.

-Oh, don't start with that. Is this your way of getting all the ladies? You said in a playful tone and shifted your gaze back to your DADA essay.

- Don't need them. Only you.

-I think the only thing you need is to concentrate on the championship. Did you hear about dragons?

-Yes, I did. Viktor sits in front of you. And I'm ready.

-How can someone be ready to fight a dragon? It's insane!!!

-Not like I have a choice. Why? Are you worried about me?

-What! N-no, of course not. Why would I?

-You are worried.

-What a rubbish.

- Hey. He leans forward, taking your hand into his. I promise I wouldn't even get hurt.

-You promise?

-Yes, my lady.)

-Oh, and don't forget to win. I want to come to the gala next year. You said, making you both smile.

He might be big, tough, and scary for someone, but actually, he was the biggest coward when it's come to you. Thankfully there was Dragomir to push him forward every time.

Dragomir P.O.V

-Is Y/N joining us for training today?

-No, professor gave her a lot of homework. She has to finish it first.

-Oh, got it.

-What about Lia? Is she coming?

-I don't know. Something is going on with her best friend. She is not telling me everything.

-I'm sure she will. Just give her some time.

-You're right, but enough about girls. Are you ready for the First Task?

-Of course, I am. After our headmaster, not even a dragon seems to be scary enough.

They both laughed end got to the training grounds.

Skip 2 hours…

Viktor and Dragomir were running their tenth round on the Quidditch pitch when suddenly they heard someone screaming their name. Everyone on the field turned their heads to the source of screams. Some guy ran up to them, luckily they weren't too far, and said:

-Y/N and Lia…

Viktor and Dragomir look at each other in confusion.

-Merlin, I can't breathe. The boy said, breathing heavily.

- What's going on? Say it finally!

-They're at Courtyard fighting with some gi…

No words needed to be said as the boys ran right to the Courtyard. As soon as they got there, the big crowd was formed in a circle, and inside were Y/N and Lia. Lia grabbed some Gryffindor girl's hair, dragged her to the fountain, and pushed her there. Y/N was sitting on top of some girl, grabbing a fistful of hair and slapping the girl across her face.

-Next time, you will know who you are talking to.

Right after that, Y/N was picked up by Viktor and carried away from the girl on the floor. After the boys stepped into the circle, some of the Gryffindors boys stepped inside it. Making atmosphere tense.

-What do you think you are doing? Viktor asked you, putting you back on the ground but still holding you, so you won't run to fight again.

-Next time this piece of junk will know not to mess with my best friend. You said and looked at Lia, who was held by Dragomir.

The girl got up from the floor and said:

-Or what, you too going to mess with my boyfriend too.

-Oh no, you didn't.

Lia said through gritted teeth and got out from Dragomir's grip, ran right to the girl, and gave her a good slap on the face. Right before slapping that girl once again, Professor Moody grabbed Lia's hand and pulled her aside.

-I expect each of you to get out of here right now. I said now!!!

With that, the crowd went to their dormitories.

-For you, gentleman, one good piece of advice. The girl's fight is something you never get in. You let them deal with that on their own. Especially a fistfight. And for you girls. I'm not going to tell Dumbledore or McGonagall, but next time I see you fighting again, I will have to do it. Now go. You have 20 minutes left to curfew.

The first one to go was Lia, who ran away to the dormitory.

-Lia, wait! You screamed but realized that there was no sense

Next left the Gryffindors and Moody, making you and the boys the only ones left. You exhaled loudly, making boys turn their attention to you.

- Are you hurt?

-No, I'm fine. Thank you!

-Mind explaining what happened? Dragomir asked.

-We were going back to the dormitory when we heard those girls talking behind our backs. One of them told how Lia was desperate for Sebastian's attention, and the other told how Lia had been flirting with you since the day you came. Obviously, we turned around and told them to shut up, but as you can see, they have big mouths.

-And who is that Sebastian guy? Is that why she's been avoiding me?

-Look, it's not up to me to tell, but long story short, they both been best friends since they were 6. Sebastian started to like Lia two years ago, and she likes him too. She didn't want to lose the friendship they had, so she decided to put those feelings behind her. But he couldn't do it, so he started to pull away from her. And on top, she starts liking you too, and he starts flirting with some girl. Look, it's complicated, but please, don't be angry at her. She needs time to understand her feelings.

-Of course, I am not going to be mad at her. She is an incredible person, and I want to make sure she is okay. Suppose she likes someone else. That's also okay. I like her, but it's only been a couple of days. It's not like we have been dating for years, and I would be left heartbroken. I want her to be happy, and If she is happy, I will be happy too.

-Thank you. That means a lot. Have a good night!

-You too!

Dragomir left, not waiting for Viktor, knowing you both needed some time alone. You turned your gaze to finally look at Viktor, who silently observed you. You gave him a small smile and said:

-Tomorrow is a big day for you, huh?

-This is not about me right now but you. You made me worried.

-I guess I'm sorry… You said in a quiet voice, looking at the ground.

-I promised you not to get hurt. Can you promise me the same?

-And why should I?

- Because I won't take you to the gala.

-Oh, that's ridiculous!

-So? Promise? He asked with a serious expression this time

-Promise.

-Now, let's take you to the dormitory, shall we?

What is your relationship like? || Slytherin boys

Summary: We saw how other people see you in the previous chapter. Here we will see how things really are.

Warnings: A little spicy on some topics, but nothing so explicit.

Requests are open!

masterlist here

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Blaise Zabini

Your relationship with Blaise is really amazing, he is almost the perfect boyfriend;

You've known each other forever, but love only flowed when you got closer in recent years at Hogwarts;

Dating Blaise is knowing that he thinks about marrying you;

He's the kind of boy who plans to have a family with you;

His family has always loved you, and your parents love you as a child;

Of course, he has his flaws. Sometimes he can be a little anxious about the things he wants to do with you;

Never, ever disrespected you in any way;

He would understand if you chose to wait to have any physical intimacy after getting married;

At the beginning of the relationship you were the type who were always together, but over time you were respecting each other's individuality;

He will always be a gentleman with you;

You never had to worry about anything in relation to fidelity, Zabini never left doubts that he loves you more than anything;

He always imposes limits when a girl gets too close. Having colleagues is fine, but it won't get past it;

Blaise is not ashamed that others see how much he loves you;

He is the boy of every girl's dreams, as if he had come out of a romance book.

Draco Malfoy

His problems with Lúcios would certainly splash on you at one time or another;

You would certainly support him in facing his father if necessary;

Draco grew up with you, he has always seen you as a safe haven;

There is no doubt that he loves you, but his insecurity sometimes affects you;

Somewhat possessive when it comes to any Gryffinory;

Although he admires his kindness, he prefers not to exercise his. Something you can't change, but you certainly repudiate;

Narcisa loves you, always praising you and thanking Merlin for her son having found someone so good;

Draco tends to be stubborn, which is sometimes stressful for you;

He would buy you gifts whenever he wanted to apologize;

The fact that he has a slight shame in showing his love for you in public is something that bothers you a little;

Sometimes he exaggerates the jokes in front of his friends, but when you turn back, he stays in a continuous silence until the end of the conversation;

However, he loves to show that you are his when he feels minimally threatened;

You were surprised when you saw that he liked you to guide him during sex;

The golden trio just doesn't like you, even if you didn't do anything to them;

There is no way to blame them, even if you give a sermon on Draco whenever you learn of your insults to others.

Lorenzo Berkshire

Enzo was a sensitive boy, which made him listen to you as much as you needed;

His kindness certainly captivated you;

However, he tends to be too kind to some people in his opinion;

The girls didn't seem to mind flirting with him, it was as if he left them;

He certainly wouldn't betray you, but it was quite easy to put him in some frame like this;

His family didn't like him so much, always very demanding, they wanted someone like Malfoy or Nott;

Too romantic in your mother's opinion;

He was not jealous of anything, or anyone;

We need to tell the truth here, the total absence of jealousy was something you didn't like so much;

He was your best friend;

He certainly wouldn't yell at you, nor would he offend you;

Enzo was not ashamed to shout to the four winds that he loved you;

He has always been completely yours.

Mattheo Riddle

Mattheo approached you little by little. Being the sister of one of his best friends didn't make things easier for him;

Discussions were quite common, almost always resolved in sex;

Jealousy definitely existed on both sides;

A lot of jokes, you would create wrinkles from laughing so much at the silly things he says;

Always protecting you from his family as much as I could;

Your parents are definitely not Mattheo fans, but that just made everything more fun for you;

Mattheo was intelligent, he just didn't try very hard;

You encourage him to do the lessons of the class correctly;

The parties were definitely more fun with him;

The language of his love was certainly a physical touch;

He loved your body, it was as if nothing was more beautiful than you;

Even if other girls risked flirting with him, it was all in vain, Riddle never cared to look at them back;

His love for you was incalculable, completely devout;

If you wanted and were of this kind of person, you could manipulate your boyfriend easily, he believed in you a lot;

Flitting with you was completely out of the question for other boys, Mattheo was aware of that;

He takes care of you when you cross the line with alcohol;

The first time you had sex was in a broom closet, it was definitely not romantic, but it was wonderfully pleasurable;

Quickies were very common.

Theodore Nott

He saw you for the first time when they were still children. You ran away to the Nott Mansion library during a very boring dinner between your families;

They grew up together, he was always in love with you;

Completely devoted to your relationship;

Prefer to spend the nights with you than to go to noisy parties;

When you go to parties, it was always with you by the side. Never alone;

You admire him so much, all the things he did were great;

Theodore used to help you with schoolwork, always very focused on classes;

Not ironically, the first cigarette he smoked was with you in the astronomy tower;

Your families already had everything planned for their future, but you only thought about what it would be like to escape and travel together;

Formal dinners during the holidays suddenly became more interesting;

His mother would certainly be proud of who he became;

Theo's face was almost always expressionless, but with you he was almost always smiling;

The gifts he gave you were always significant;

He was jealous, even if he didn't show so much not to seem too possessive;

He may seem quiet, but make no mistake, the sex was definitely hot;

Nicknames in Italian always melted his heart;

Provocations were quite common, but very discreet.

Tom Riddle

You had more in common than it seemed;

Tom was quite obstinate in what he wanted, he wouldn't let anyone get in his way;

He didn't use to demonstrate in public, that was a fact, but he wasn't a completely cold boy either;

His favorite moments were when he lay down on his body and heard his heart beat at a comforting pace;

His family loved him from the beginning. He knew how to be polite and charismatic when he needed to;

He seemed so respectful of you in front of his parents, they barely knew that you had already been completely corrupted;

Teachers used to keep an eye on you and your interests;

He was the darling of the teachers for his apparently interested and innocent way, but some teachers did not let themselves be fooled by this manipulation, distrusting him and you;

Tom was determined to take you with him wherever he went;

Even if people didn't gossip clearly about you, there were buzz about what it would be like;

What attracted Tom to you was how he saw himself in you;

You weren't as innocent as you seemed to be, and he loved it;

There were only two things he would never give up in life: Power and you.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

A/N: Guys, I'm running out of ideas, please send me ideas for imagines or headcanons. 😭😭

xoxo, bee✨🫶🏼

Draco Malfoy × Reader

❝I love you.❞ he says.

❝But only inside the back of his head.❞

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.

draco dating a hufflepuff girl in the same year as him.

*requested

Draco’s sixth year at Hogwarts comes in a succession of black and blue, the shape of a Mark, a branding, a death sentence, stitched into the capillaries of his arm.

The gossamer ribbon of his lungs slips through his rib cage and swirls around the notches of his esophagus till he’s choking on the silent screams.

Because loving her is a dangerous thing.

A tricky thing.

A deadly thing.

For she’s now a pawn in the Dark Lord’s game, all muddled blood, and impure veins.

He feels like Icarus falling for the sea, can taste the foam in his lungs, on his tongue, shards of salt lacerating the walls of his once beating heart.

And he cannot breathe, cannot swallow, cannot see, no, not as she’s standing behind him more ghost than girl, ankles buried beneath more truths than lies, tears staining the rim of her cathedral-glass eyes.

“Draco,” she whispers, and it sounds like a hymn, a chorus of angels screaming, crashing, burning, falling from heaven, falling for devils. 

He’s never heard something quite so tragic.

“I’m sorry,” he replies, almost laughs at the irony.

The Mark, the blood, the truth, the lies.

He wonders if this is what it feels like to die.

With a girl - the girl - by his side, eyes wide, lips swollen and tinged with a hint of Botticellian pink.

“I’m not leaving.”

“Please, he’ll kill you, he’ll kill us all.”

A strand of hair catches in her lashes as she shakes her head adamantly.

“Like you said, he’ll kill us all. At least I’ll be by your side when I die.”

She twines their fingers together and knots their knuckles in a manner that reminds Draco vaguely of a promise. 

He thinks he wants to hold her hand forever, wants to memorize each slope and curve and jut of her tender, porcelain bones.

Because loving her is like Russian Roulette.

A game, a chance, a dangerous thing.

She folds her arms behind his neck, brings her lips close, close, close till they’re closest.

“I’m not leaving,” she says, again.

Again, again and again.

And yellow never was so beautiful.

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.

❝i am half-agony, half-hope. . . i have loved none but you.❞

summary: how the marauders loved you in their time. featuring harry potter the time-traveller and sixth-wheel.

pairing/s: poly!marauders x reader. (james potter x reader, lily evans x reader, remus lupin x reader, and sirius black x reader.)

tags: reader is referred to as she/her and a mother throughout the whole fic[!], reader is a violent gremlin who craves blood but the marauders love you for that, implied child abuse[!], mentions of blood and violence[!], disgustingly sappy poetic fluff, no angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like finnick odair, edited: very minor detail.

note: there is little plot, it’s just the marauders and their adoration for you. thank you all so much for your kind responses to my first marauders fic :(( ilysm! i hope you enjoy this one as well! because there are parts when i was writing that i ended up kicking my feet in the air and smiling to myself.

“MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER. I come from twenty-years in the future, you’re my mum — one of my ‘em, actually. It’s complicated. And you’re married to James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.” 

You blink. 

“Get the fuck out of my room!” 

Harry James Potter has dodged many things in his life. Killing curses, jinxes, girls, Draco Malfoy, and Dudley’s sloppy punches, but he’s never had to dodge his sixteen-year-old mother’s fuzzy slipper before. (Godric, that sounds weird, even in his head.) He doesn’t know precisely how he arrived here. In the Slytherin common room, to be exact, in your dorm. Harry remembers duelling with Death Eaters, Hermione calling his name, and a flash of light hitting him square in the chest, then he remembers waking up in the cold tiles of the snake dungeon. He nearly throws himself off the window when he meets your eyes, bleary from interrupted sleep — it’s not often he gets to meet [read: one of] his dead parents, after all, three had been brutally murdered by Voldemort, and one killed by his own loony cousin. He misses Sirius, though. A lot. And right about now, he could do with some of Hermione’s nagging and brilliant plan-making. 

At present — or past, Harry guesses — he watches you scramble out from your duvet, hand clumsily reaching for your wand as you snarl at him. He wonders if his mother knows that he’s encountered other creatures far more threatening than her. Oh shit, he realizes with all the forces of an angry Hermione Granger, isn’t this the last thing he’s supposed to do? But, well, Harry has given, and given, so much of himself all for the greater good — just this once, he’d like to see his parents alive and well. Even if they were currently trying to blast him into the walls. 

“If you’d just let me explain, mum—!” Harry pleads, nearly dropping his glasses after dodging one of your stinging hexes. Godric, you’re crazy. “Please!” 

“Stop calling me that!” You screech, eyes set ablaze.  Harry finds that you’re quite dynamic with your attacks. A hairbrush, followed by a stinging jinx, then a thick History of Magic textbook — which rudely hits him in the face, but he doesn’t dare complain because you’re his mother, and he’s respectful like that — and after you’ve exhausted your breath, running him into a corner, and your nostrils flare with the stubbornness of a lion, you point the tip of your wand at him. “If this is another one of the Prewett’s shitty pranks, I want you to leave! You are in the girls’ dormitory beyond midnight, and so help me, if you aren’t walking out that door in the next five seconds, I will kill you and string you up by your bottoms for everyone in school to see! Maybe all your stupid rumours of me being a Death-Eater might come true after all!” 

“You’re a Death-Eater?” Harry asks dumbly. 

You growl furiously, and Harry figures that was not the right thing to say. “I wonder what McGonagall would say if I delivered your head to her on a silver platter.” 

“Professor,” Harry corrects with a toothy grin. “Professor McGonagall.” 

You slam his head against the wall.

Definitely the wrong thing to say. 

Harry groans, little Dobby heads floating around his vision. Why was this so much harder than actually facing Voldemort? Quick, he needed to think of something, otherwise he’d end up eviscerated to ashes on your cold, stone floors. Harry is pretty sure you’d use his remains as decoration to send off a message to your enemies. 

“You hate your father,” Harry slurs through the pain, remembering Remus’s stories of how you were the gentlest magical being he’s ever had the privilege to love — now that Harry thinks about it, Remus was being extremely biased, nothing about you is gentle at all. “He’s forcing you to marry someone old enough to be your grandfather. You love to read Muggle literature but had to stop when your father burnt your whole collection of books. Your favorite novel is Persuasion by Jane Austen. It’s the one book you carry with you everywhere, you could never get tired of it.”  

Your grip on his shoulders falters, but the fury in your eyes crackles. “This isn’t funny.” 

“It’s not meant to be funny, mum,” Harry croaks, voice cracking pathetically — strange how this is the most he’s ever uttered the word, mum; it’s a peculiar string of letters, foreign on his tongue. “You have tremors in your left leg from when your father cast the Cruciatus curse on you. One of your dearest friends is a Hogwarts house-elf named Pipley. You cheated on your Transfiguration essay once, and—” 

“That’s enough!” You bark, eyes narrowed in dangerous slits. “I don’t know where you heard those from, you creepy, little stalker, but if you want to keep breathing, then I suggest you shut up.” 

Harry scoffs — you don’t understand. Everything he’s learned about you is from Sirius and Remus. They talk about you with whispered devotion, your name like a prayer on their lips, their eyes glazed with wistfulness as though they could see you reaching out for them — but you were dead in Harry’s time. Yet, you might as well have been alive with their tales of you. 

(“She’s a different kind of beautiful,” Sirius had said, a year after breaking out from Azkaban, sitting by the fire in Grimmauld Place, taking a swig of decade-old firewhiskey, “The kind of beautiful you don’t want to take your eyes off from because you’re afraid she’ll disappear from your eyes. But you won’t forget her, oh no, you’ll memorize the freckles and moles on her skin, the scars from her years, the light in her eyes, and the way she holds her head up high. You should have seen her, James, she. . . she was — is glorious.”) 

“I told you,” says Harry firmly — although he loves his mother very much, she’s beginning to wear him out, “My name is Harry James Potter, I come from twenty-years in the future. You are one of my parents.” A lightbulb flashes in his head. He squirms in your hold, reaching for his robe pocket until he finds the thing he’s looking for. Harry dangles the ring in front of you, grinning in success when your eyes flash in recognition. “It’s—” 

“A family heirloom,” You say breathlessly. The alexandrite winks under the light, a familiar gold band with the Latin inscription of your House words. “Where did you steal this from?” 

Harry rolls his eyes. “You left it for me in my Gringotts vault. It’s my heirloom now. You have to believe me, there’s no way you can deny this.” 

You take a step backwards, nibbling on your lower lip, as you stagger to your bed — Harry nearly stumbling to catch you in case you fell; adjusting to the living proof of time travel was quite difficult, he, of all people, should know. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Magic, amirite?” 

You throw a pillow at him, which he catches gracefully thanks to his Seeker reflexes, as you plop down in the comforts of your quilts. “Sleep. The other girls won’t be back until the end of the holiday. We can deal with whatever this is in the morning. It’s way too early for me to process the idea of a future Potter spawn following me around.” 

Harry smiles. “Yes, mum.” 

ONE THING THAT his fathers failed to tell him about you, and that Harry had to learn himself, was that you took ages to get ready. You sat on the chair in front of your vanity mirror, the birch wood legs whittled with snakes, and it was as though you had a Sticking Charm on the cushion. Harry didn’t know there could be so many creams, oils, and serums, and powders one put on their face. He blanches when you turn to offer him a cream for his under eyes. (“Suit yourself.” You shrug, turning to brush your cheek with dusts of pink. “Just saying, those dark circles aren’t doing you any favors.”)

“What am I like in the future?” You ask, a kind lilt to your voice, much like a warm hug, much like home. 

Harry stiffens, shoving his hands in pockets of the robes that were twice his size — you had given him the garments of Lucius Malfoy to change in, which you apparently had stolen from his room. It’s come full circle, really, the Sorting Hat had once told him he would be great in Slytherin, and now here he was, looking fabulous in green — because he was about to hurl at the feel of the velvet on his skin, knowing slimy Lucius Malfoy had worn it. (“No son—” You pause with a tight purse in your lips, as if you still can’t accept the fact. Harry doesn’t blame you. “—no son of mine will be parading around in red of all colors, future or not.” And Harry finds that he really doesn’t care, so long as you call him your son.)  

“Loved,” replies Harry gruffly, avoiding your eyes in the reflection of your mirror — they were piercing. One look and Harry wanted to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He remembers the photographs in his album, the one he’s stared at so many times as a child. It’s a moving photograph of the five of you, fresh out of Hogwarts, each wearing a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. Before Sirius and Remus, it was the only semblance of proof that Harry had — that you had once been alive. Remus is holding you by the waist in the picture, twirling you around as autumn leaves fell. You were — are — loved, and Harry thinks there’s no better description than that. 

(“I bloody hated her cat,” says Remus with a roguish quirk to his lips, regalling Harry with more talks of his parents. “Sirius, too. We just never got along with the little creature. But your mother loved it, and we would have done anything to make her happy. She deserved it, you see. She deserved more than what I had to offer her, but still she chose me anyway. And I am a selfish man, Harry, I crave glimpses of her and the whispers of her voice. She has made me a mad man whose only reprieve is her touch.”) 

You hum knowingly. “Stupid question, I guess. Since you aren’t allowed to reveal anything more about the future.” You sigh, gracefully threading your arms in the sleeves of your shirt, a green tie in the center of your collar. “Except, of course, when you gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night by telling me the last thing I want to become — no offense, I just don’t see how a relationship with those rowdy bunch would work. They get on my nerves far too much for me to ever feel anything other than disgust.” 

Harry doesn’t need a mirror to see that his expression has contorted in confusion; brows knitted and upper lip crinkled. By their memories of you, you all were madly in love in Hogwarts. Damn. This just made his trip to the past a lot harder. No maze seems to be ever just a maze. 

Luckily, you don’t notice him brewing a grand master plan to bring his parents together. Instead, you say, “But you don’t seem to be phased by any of this. If I had been thrown twenty years into the past, I would have puked my guts out twice at some point.” 

“Thanks for the image,” says Harry with a scowl. Truthfully, it had either been a present with a noseless Dark Lord to face, trauma to unpack but really never have the chance to, or a past where all of his parents were alive, and a chance to talk with them for however long he has. He knows where he’ll be staying, thank you very much. 

“Anytime,” You reply with an impish smile. 

Your heels pad across the floor as you walk over to him, mouth clicking as you pat the top of his head, full of wild, untameable Potter hair. “You need a trim soon,” You mutter, frowning, as you brush the thick strands away from his eyes, then you gasp — and Harry knows exactly what’s coming next. “Oh, you’ve got Evans’s eyes. That’s freaky.” 

“I know.” Harry grins. 

“Here’s the plan,” You say as you lead him out of your room, making sure no one saw him walking out of your door and getting the wrong impression — because that would be so wrong on many levels, but also, explaining to someone else that the person beside you was a time-traveller was just complicated in general. The Slytherin dungeon is unfamiliarly familiar, eerily quiet, as the two of you made your way out. “Just say you’re Potter’s distant relative, twice or thrice removed, and you’ve always been here. If you lie to their faces enough, they’ll believe it eventually.” 

“Will that work?” Harry doesn’t really mind — he needs a connection to James, his father, if he’s going to work out a connection between you and the others, because at the moment, it doesn’t seem like you’re too fond of them. There’s a tick on your jaw every time you mumble the word, Potter. Nevertheless, Harry decides he’s going to spend the duration of the holiday break trying to set you up with them — on the list of most insane things he’s ever done, living out the Parent Trap was high up the tally. 

You shrug. “They’ve fallen for less.” 

(“She’s got this adorable habit when she lies,” Sirius tells Harry, whipping up a stack of pancakes for their breakfast — Remus browsing through the morning paper. It’s the closest he’s ever been to a normal family. “It’s not obvious to her, of course, but I know her more than I know my own name. So we play along with it.” For a moment, he stops drizzling the maple syrup on the well-cooked batter, gazing at Remus fondly. “D’you remember that, Moony? She led us straight to one of her pranks, and we ended up covered in slug slime. She was so obvious — with her adorable fucking giggles. I need help with Charms, she said, and we knew right away it was a set-up. But it didn’t matter. I’d happily let her lead me to my ruin.”)  

The Great Hall is the same as Harry remembers. Now that most have returned home for the holidays, those who stay back mingle with students from other Houses, sharing meals under the bewitched ceiling, their low murmurs and hushed Christmas greetings bouncing off the walls. Harry scours the four tables to find a hint of blazing red hair, or the scent of impending trouble. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to search very far. As fate would have it, James Potter finds you — and where he is, Sirius Black is sure to follow. 

You’re barely seated when James comes bounding over to your table — more precisely, he struts, and Harry is horrified to ever be proven wrong by Snape, of all people. He ignores the roll of your eyes as he drags a leg over the bench, sitting to face you as Sirius occupies the space to your left before Harry can even sit down. He can’t even fathom how weird it is to see his parents as rambunctious teenagers. Lovesick, rambunctious teenagers. 

“Morning, dove.” James preens under your glare, stealing a grape from your bowl with a boyish smirk. His hair looks as though he’s ran his hand through it many times. “You look ravishing today.” 

“As always,” Sirius pipes in. “But that eyeshadow really isn’t complementing your skin tone, my darling.” 

You smile at him, right before your lips twist into a cutthroat sneer. “Piss off, Black.”

James stifles a laugh as he shovels a mass of potatoes on your plate, then pumpkin pasties, and slides a steaming cup of Dragon Well tea in front of you. 

“What the hell are you doing, Potter?” You reach over to smack his arm when he sprinkles apple slices and bacon on your breakfast. 

“What does it look like?” James smiles lopsidedly. “You need to eat more, honey.”

(In the future, Sirius will tell Harry, “It started off as a joke, a way to get on her nerves — but then, it just became this thing about taking care of her, making sure she got enough sleep before her tests, wondering if she had breakfast or dinner, staying with her in the library, walking her to the Slytherin common room, and sending her stupid notes just to make her laugh. You don’t get it, Harry. I’d give my every breath to ensure her life. We all would.” Harry doesn’t see Sirius any more during that evening, but he hears a bottle crashing against a wall, cracking into a million pieces, and the masked sound of Sirius sobbing, and Harry decides to leave him alone for the night.) 

Then, you tear your eyes away from James — he huffs, pushing your plate to you, mildly annoyed that you’ve deprived him of your eyes; they were his favorite part of you, you see, so expressive and full of life; James thinks you put the stars to shame — and thankfully, you remember that Harry still exists. You lightly smack Sirius’s leg until he gives Harry some room to sit. “Potter, meet other Potter. It’s the holidays, shouldn’t it be the perfect time to let go of House prejudices and spend time with family?” 

James looks at Harry up and down. “You must be from dad’s side of the family with all that hair.” 

Harry lets out a breath of relief. That was easy — way too easy. When he takes the vacant space in between you and Sirius, you dump all the available food on his plate, just as James had done for you. 

“Eat,” You say with a tone of finality. “You look like the wind could snap you in half.” 

“Yes, m—” Harry stops himself before he could finish his sentence, avoiding Sirius’s curious gaze. 

“Wow.” Sirius pokes Harry in the shoulder and in the cheek. “You really look like a mini-James, you’ve even got his terrible eyesight.” 

“Oi!” 

Your fork clatters against the silverware as you turn to Sirius with a shrill. “Not that I do enjoy your company — because, trust me, I do not want you here at all and would very much prefer if you got out of my sight — but why are you here? The Gryffindor table is over there. Unless your housemates finally got sick of you, Potter, which I can definitely see happening.” 

James chuckles, tossing another grape in his mouth without taking his eyes off you. “It’s as you said, isn’t it? It’s the time for putting aside House prejudices. And I think it’s a lovely day to enjoy a meal with my favorite snake.” 

“Drop dead,” You retort, digging into your chicken with a little more force than necessary. 

“Oh, dove.” James shakes his head, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. “It’s cute that you think death will keep me from you.” 

(Harry’s been told before, probably by Sirius, that this line had been wedged into his wedding vows for you. “A dramatic one, James was,” Sirius chuckles to himself one morning, Harry and Hermione listening intently, “He always said he’d rather die than ever hurt her. There was this time in seventh year, they had a fight — it was ugly — and she had ignored him for a week. James cried in Remus’s arms begging him to cut his heart out, saying that he didn’t deserve to keep on breathing, not after making you cry.”) 

“That is so creepy,” You say in disgust, scrunching your nose. Sirius chortles at your side. “I still wonder why Evans agreed to go out with you.” 

“It’s all part of the charm, dove.” James winks. “It’s all part of the charm.” 

Harry wants to barf, actually.

After breakfast, James then decides to introduce Harry to Lily, Remus, and Peter. (He’s gonna need the patience of a saint to not Avada Kedavra that rat on the spot.) Harry had spent the whole morning watching Sirius peel oranges and give them to you with a smitten look in his eyes — naturally, you gave whatever Sirius offered you to Harry, and each time Padfoot would visibly wilt. If he were in his Animagus form, Harry thinks he would be whining by now, tongue out and all. James and Sirius follow after you like lost puppies when you extricate yourself from the table.

“Where are you going?” James calls, hot on your heels as you leave the Great Hall.

“Away from you, Potter!” 

And James actually sighs when you turn the corner and disappear from their peripheral vision. Seconds later, he turns to Harry with a blinding smile, “She’s definitely charmed.”

Harry chortles.

“Well, come on then!” James guffaws as he wraps an arm around Harry’s neck — this is so, so strange. They begin walking in the opposite direction of where you went. “I still can’t believe we’ve got another Potter here and in Slytherin. I think I would have remembered Minnie calling your name during the Sorting Ceremony. What year are you in?” 

He’s supposed to start his sixth-year in a few weeks. “Fifth.” Technically. 

“We should ask Lily,” says Sirius, hands in his pockets and ebony ringlets tickling his nape. “She’s got the best memory out of all of us.”

It’s odd, Harry thinks, meeting the person who’s got his eyes — or the other way around, as people have told him. It’s like someone carved out the emeralds of Lily Evans’s eyes and bestowed it upon Harry for safekeeping. She sits beside Remus Lupin, head resting on his shoulder, hands clasped together, as they enjoy the shade. Nex to them, oblivious to their intimate conversation, is Peter Pettigrew — with his rosy, cherub cheeks and innocent blue eyes; not at all the image of a pathological, cowardly liar. Their heads snap in attention as James boisterously cries for their name. 

“Marauders — and Lily-pad — meet ickle Potter.” James lightheartedly whacks Harry on the back, to which Harry feels his lungs spill out from his mouth, he’s sure there’s an imprint of his father’s hand on his back now. 

“There’s two Potters in Hogwarts?” Sea-green eyes look at him in scrutiny as Lily knits her brows. “How even is the castle still standing?” 

James cackles like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard in his entire life, slapping his knee for dramatic effect. Oh, well, at least they’re buying Harry’s half-baked lie. At this point, it’s not even baked, it’s just wet, soggy, and poorly done. “Good one, Lily-pad!”

Sirius ruffles Remus’s shaggy blonde hair, canines bared in a wide grin. “This one here’s Moony, uptight prefect in the morning and absolute beast in the evening.” 

Harry blanches. Surely he was talking about his furry problem, right? Right? 

Remus doesn’t even flinch, just peels off Sirius’s hand from him and extends his hand out to Harry. “Please do not mind him. Remus Lupin, nice to meet you. Although, I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve met. We would have definitely remembered if we had another Potter in our midst.” 

“It’s true, we Potters are just hard to forget,” says James, smiling cheekily. 

Harry pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Mum didn’t take the Potter name. I’m part Dursley. Muggle.” 

Lily hums, toying at the ends of her bright hair. “Dursley, huh? What a familiar name.” 

“It’s a common one,” Harry assures her — not at all the names of the people who would take him in after they died. And make his life miserable. 

“I suppose you’re right,” says Lily, unconvinced. 

“And this is Peter.” James introduces the boy eagerly, pride in his voice — as though this isn’t the person who literally allies himself with Voldemort. As if Peter won’t betray his friends all because of fear. 

“N–Nice to meet you,” Peter stammers with a nervous fidget, “Any family of James is a friend of ours.” 

Harry’s eye twitches. 

IT IS ALMOST COMICAL — the way their eyes land on your figure, bursting through the courtyard from the corridors, winter cloak swishing with every step, tendrils of hair swaying in the crisp wind, and head held up high, thick books under your arms. You pause in front of the Marauders, face blank, then you turn to Peter, greeting him with a: “Hello, only Gryffindor I can tolerate.” 

Peter’s cheeks burn a saccharine hue of pink. Oh, no, no, no — absolutely not — Harry will not stand for a little crush Peter Pettigrew has on his mother. He needs James to act now. “Hi,” Peter replies shyly. 

Lily quirks her lips. “Hello, princess, see your score for the Astronomy test yet?”

You scowl. “Zip it, Evans.” 

The sound of Lily’s laughter fills the atmosphere — it’s the sort of melody that makes flowers bloom in deserts. “Had a bit of difficulty with the star charts?” 

Sirius pinches your cheek — Harry thinks you’re going to murder him on the spot. “Difficulty? I think this one just slept through the whole thing.” 

James snickers. “Must have been one hell of a nap, princess. You were drooling on my jumper.” 

“I most certainly do not drool!” You gasp, appalled, eyes wide as you step away from Sirius.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “What? Is drooling too barbaric for the pretty, little pure-blooded princess now? Newsflash, pet, you’re just as human as we are.” 

“Oh, you horrible, loathsome, infuriating—” You whip around to beat his chest with the course book in your grasp — it’s the kind of book Hermione would consider for light reading. 

“Irresistibly attractive—?” Sirius supplies for you, grin widening with as he captures your wrist with his hands. 

“In your dreams!” You shrill. 

You exhale slowly, eyes closing, chest rising when you take a sharp inhale. You open your eyes and stare straight at Harry — for a moment he fears that you’ll bite his head off. “Harry, dear, will you accompany me to the library? I think I’ve found something important regarding your situation.” 

Harry nods. “Is it time already?” 

“Yes,” You say firmly. “And time is of the essence. Come on.” 

“Wait!” Lily calls out to you as you turn to head back to the castle, Harry in tow — he tries to avoid the way James is glaring at your linked arms. “Hogsmeade next week?” 

Your jaw falls to the ground — this must have been unrehearsed, if the others’ reactions were anything to go by; Remus had dropped his book in shock, Sirius looked like he couldn’t decide between applauding Lily’s bravery or shaking her, and James was somehow frozen in time. “Excuse me?” 

“You’re excused, princess,” says Lily, dimples poking out of her cheek as she takes another step towards you. “You, me, Hogsmeade. A date. I’m sure you’ve gone on one of those before.” 

Harry elbows your stomach as you stare at Lily in shock. It takes a few moments to break you out of your stupor. “A–And what makes you think I’ll just go with you?” 

Lily shrugs. “I’m fit. Aren’t I, Remus?” 

“The fittest,” says Remus without missing a beat. 

You laugh incredulously. “Do you just expect me to go along with this? You’re mad, Evans.” 

Harry glares at you. You need to go along with this. 

“Are you scared, princess?” Lily’s face is inches away from yours, noses almost touching — Harry doesn’t know if he should keep watching this painful way of flirting — as she grins at you, happiness barely contained within her eyes. 

To your credit, you don’t back down. (Harry has to say this for the masses: he saw your gaze flitter down to Lily’s lips for a split second.) “Stop calling me that, Evans.” 

“One date, then.” 

You growl in exasperation, eyes flickering to the boys behind her back — pretending not to hear their conversation. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with them as well?” 

Lily beams and Harry swears sunflowers could grow in her direction. “We’re a package deal.” 

“Unfortunately,” You utter — but Harry notices it, the lack of venom in your voice. You straighten your posture, nose lifted haughtily, “I choose where we’re going.” 

“Done.” The sun peeks out from the cloud just as Lily smiles at you. 

“And I want to—” 

“Done,” Remus interjects raspily, peering up at you from underneath his lashes. “Anything you want, it’s yours.” 

You fight a growing smile, but continue, “If we’re going out in public, you’re going to have to wear—” 

“Done,” says James giddily, he looks as though he could kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world.  

“You can’t just agree to anything I say!” You flap your arms in frustration. 

“Yes, dear,” Sirius teases. 

“Do you know how much you piss me off, Black?” You squawk. “Because you are this close to—”

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Sirius confesses, every pretense shed raw from his skin, sincerity pouring from his words. 

“I—” You falter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve gone mad.” 

“It’s your fault, dove,” says James, eyes twinkling like crescent moons as he smiles. “You best take accountability for this.” 

“You’re incorrigible — all of you,” You say as you avoid their gazes.

(But they were yours. Past, present, and future. They loved you so much that their soul was no longer their own — it was yours; yours to keep, yours to break, and yours to love. It would be unjust to ask them why they loved you. Do we ask why the sun rises each day without rest? Do we ask a daisy to stop blooming, or a tree to stop growing after it has endured storms and floods? After all, we do not ask why humans follow the light in a tunnel shrouded in darkness.) 

“Come on, Harry, let’s go.” You reach for his hand, he notices immediately that the tips of your ears are pink, and your palms are warm with sweat. He barely sees Peter wave goodbye before you tug him in the direction of the castle entrance. 

“Wait up!” Remus catches up to you two in quick strides, offering to carry your books for you — not that you agree, stubborn Slytherin that you are. “I’ll walk you to the library.” 

“There’s no need for that, Lupin, thank you.” You dodge his eyes, lips tightly pressed together, nails slightly digging into Harry’s arm. 

“Remus,” He says with a twinkle. “Call me Remus.” 

“Alright.” You pause. “Remus.” 

(In that moment, Remus wonders if you remember decking Lucius Malfoy in the face to defend him in your fourth year. He didn’t think he deserved to even breathe in the same air as you — the pure-blooded princess, dressed in clothing worth more than his life, adorned in jewelry he could only dream to afford, raised to believe she was better than everyone else. Then, you beat up Evan Rosier the next month in the courtyard, eyes ablaze, extravagant silk marred with grass stains and mud, and knuckles split open. You spit blood on the ground, looking at Lily then back at Rosier. “Red,” You say, kicking him one last time in the stomach, unafraid of McGonagall’s wrath growing louder and louder. “Just like everyone else. Like those Muggleborns you fear. We’ve all got dirty blood, Rosier. Suck it up.” 

“I’ll tell your father about this!” Rosier bellows through bloody teeth. 

“Tell him!” You grab his neck and slam your forehead against his. “Tell him that I decide my own future now!”

Remus doesn’t even have to think about it. 

He falls in love.) 

FUNNILY ENOUGH, IT’S LILY who gives you her heart first, before anyone else does. It’s the last month of her first year at Hogwarts — it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet that she was a witch. Her, not Petunia, but her — Lily Evans, the witch. Apparently, some people can’t believe it either. A girl from Ravenclaw calls her this foul word, she’s heard it a few times now but it always hurts the same. James and Sirius get into a fight for her honor, now faced with detention later this evening. But she can’t help but wonder, what if they were right? What if she really didn’t belong in this world? It was too good to be true, anyway. Perhaps she’ll just run a flower boutique with Petunia.

“Oi.” 

The sound of your voice startles her, and she nearly topples over in the Great Lake. Lily catches sight of your Slytherin colors and resigns herself to another round of name-calling. “What do you want?” 

“They’re wrong, you know,” You tell her, ignoring Lily’s question. You look down on her with your nose raised arrogantly — she wishes she could be like you. Born to be magic. “You’ve got a terrifying brain locked up in your head there, Evans. And they know it, too. They’re scared.” 

Lily scoffs. “I’m just a Mudblood to them. There’s nothing to be intimidated by.” 

You sneer. “Don’t say that word. You’re more than that. More than them. They’ve got long ways to go to prove they have a place in this world. But you — you’ve defied the odds and you were destined to become magic. You don’t have to prove anything. You have the right to be in the wizarding world and no one can take that away from you.” 

Then, you pivot on your heels, not bothering to hear her reply. “You’re my rival now, Evans. Do keep up. We’ve got an Astronomy test tomorrow. I look forward to seeing how you do then.” 

Lily just gapes. She’s certain there’s butterflies in her stomach. Her heart thumps wildly against her ribcage. Lily raises her hands to feel her blushing cheeks. There’s a light unfamiliar sensation in her stomach — like the urge to kick her legs and scream into a pillow, or more precisely, chase after you and hold your hand.

She stiffens.

Oh.

part two

In denial (Pansy Parkinson x reader)

Warnings: none

Summary: for years y/n denied her feelings for Pansy and tries to push them away

It all started when you were 5, you and Pansy lived next door to each other so it was rare that you weren’t playing at each other’s houses. Your favourite game to play was house, you and Pansy always argued about who would be the mum. Both of you were as stubborn as ever and not much has changed in that sense. But even at that time you were wrapped around her finger no matter how stubborn you were, so eventually you let her be the mum and you be the dad.

Neither of you thought at the time that two girls could be married and have a family (made up of stuffed animals and dolls). You loved pretending to be married to each other.

You got into your early teenage years at Hogwarts, Pansy had multiple boyfriends before you even got your first one, you’d not wanted one for a long time. You’d convinced yourself that boys weren’t all that bad and at some stage you’d have to settle down.

You had a couple short term relationships but you weren’t in love with any of them. You saw them as good friends.

Throughout it all you insisted you were straight, that there was no feelings towards Pansy. You thought that up until a couple weeks ago when you and Pansy were left alone in your dorm room.

Pansy climbs onto your bed, you move over making room for her but she gets closer to you, cuddling into your chest.

“I’m cold and lonely” Pansy complains “you broke up with Draco” “I know but I miss our cuddles” Pansy sighs.

“You are terrible at keeping to a decision” “I never said I wanted him back I’m just craving some attention” you put your book to the side and wrap your arms around her.

Pansy looks up at you admiring your features. The way she looked at you, you desperately wanted her lips on yours.

You slowly made your move, your lips ghosting over hers giving her time to object but she invites you in. You close your eyes and press your lips to hers, you could feel her soft lips kissing you back.

Your hands move to her cheek and in her raven hair. Her hands slide underneath your top moving up your back nearing your shoulders. You pull away your lips still close to hers.

“Why’d you stop?” Pansy mutters against your lips “I wanted to give you a chance to back out” “If I wasn’t into this I would’ve backed out” she presses two soft kisses to your lips before she kisses you again.

You’d never kissed someone and felt such a connection. You were both hungry for each other, you never wanted her to let go of you.

Her lips move from yours down your jaw and to your neck sucking light hickeys on your skin. “That feels nice” she sucks a bit harsher catching you off guard, your fingers tangle in her hair pulling on it.

Pansy’s lips detach from your skin and she nuzzles her face into your chest. “Pans, you’re not doing this because you miss Draco, are you?” “No, I want you, only you” “Me too.”

You didn’t want to admit it but Pansy telling you she wanted only you was comforting. If you had Pansy, you could try to come to terms with your sexuality instead of hiding it.