here’s just a list of characters (all harry potter ofc) that i read/reblog (includes smut btw) n ships i like (i don’t even know why i’m doing this to be honest, i just reblog other people’s fanfics).
I’ve always hated how, when Bill got attacked by Fenrir Greyback, Molly’s first thought was, “oh, look at that, wedding’s off.”
No Molly. Their wedding isn’t off. Fleur wasn’t in love with Bill just because he was handsome.
She loved him because he was the only man at Gringotts who never cat-called her.
She loved him because he was the only man ever to make her laugh.
She loved him because one night when he found her tipsy at a bar, he brought her home to his flat, and slept on a lumpy chair so that she could have his bed.
She loved him because he was an excellent cook, the first dinner he made for her was fillet mignon.
She loved him because he learned french, just so that she could feel at home, even in another country.
She loved him because every time they kissed, he asked for her permission.
Fleur Delacour never loved Bill Weasley for his looks. She loved him for him.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Warnings: None
Characters: Fleur Delacour, Bill Weasley
Summary: She told her sister it was indecent to be a sore loser and so stopped lingering on the disappointment and shame of losing – of coming in last, no less. This was a lie. The truth was she would remember Cedric Diggory’s corpse and her mother and sister sobbing into her hair. The reality was a cold, stale reminder she was lucky to be alive.
Note: Writing and posting fic makes me ANXIOUS but yolo. I’m on a harry potter binge and this got stuck in my head so Here We Are.
idk if your requests are open but could you do something about bill weasley ? you can make it how you want i don't have a preference but yea :)
Okay, first things first, I’m so sorry it took me so long, but I’m literally living in a madhouse at the moment.
Second, thank you so much for the request, I had a lot of fun writing this. In my head I imagined the scene with Bill and Fleur but of course it’s completely up to your imagination. I would be so happy if you let me know if this is anything like what you wanted to read <3
***
Clair de Lune
Bill Weasley x Reader
Word Count: ~ 1.400
When Bill Weasley got injured by Fenrir Greyback during the Battle of the Astronomy Tower, no one could say for certain how strong the effects of his wounds would be. Now, with the first full moon after the Battle approaching, he is scared of what he might do under the silver light of the moon.
The sun was hanging low on the horizon, painting the summer sky in an explosion of pink, yellow and orange. On a usual night, Bill Weasley would have marvelled at the colourful spectacle unfolding in front of him; but it wasn’t a usual night.
Instead of the burning sky, his eyes were fixed on the black sea below as he leaned against the window sill of your little cottage. He’d always thought the sea looked mysterious, full of secrets and ancient stories waiting to be explored. Tonight, the only thing that came to his mind looking at the water was one word: Darkness.
Not much longer and the inky blue of the coming night would eclipse the dazzling sunset and with the coming of the dark, the full moon would start making its ascent.
His insides twisted into a burning knot at the thought; it had been a few weeks since the Battle of the Astronomy Tower. The wounds on his face had healed, but were still shining in a deep, aggressive red that stood out against his pale skin. But the visible wounds weren’t the thing that worried him.
Tonight was the first full moon since Fenrir Greyback had sunk his teeth into him.
Bill craned his head from side to side to distract himself from the memories of that night, the tight tendons of his neck giving a sharp crack that seemed to echo through the silence of the room.
They had told him it was unlikely that he would transform because Greyback had been in his human form when he had been bitten; but no one had been able to tell him for sure. As the night of the full moon had drawn nearer and nearer, the knot of fear inside his guts had grown every day until it had consumed all of his thoughts.
He had taken precautions, of course. He had been drinking Wolfsbane Potion every day for a week now, the bitter taste of the aconite never really leaving his tongue. Lupin had given him some tips on how to handle a transformation should it occur after all; if anyone knew how to keep his sanity, it was him.
And he had made sure, no one would be near him on this night. His mother had raged and cried as he had sent her away but he wouldn’t make any exceptions.
Except for one.
Bill gripped the windowsill tighter as the door opened and he heard you shuffle into the room. He had told you time and time again that he didn’t want you to be there when he had no idea what would happen, but every time he had suggested leaving him to you, you had flat out dismissed him, up to the point where you had started to become angry.
“I am not leaving you on the scariest night of your life, Bill Weasley. We’re in this together, for better or for worse. If you were thinking for a second that I would be running, you clearly don’t know me at all.”
Although he had been furious at your stubborn willingness to put yourself in potential danger, he couldn’t deny the comfort your presence gave him. The calm you radiated as you joined him at the window immediately eased his agitation, enveloping him in a wonderful sense of peace.
“I brought you your potion.”
With a small smile, Bill took the flask from you and gave you a mock salute before upending it in one big swallow. He grimaced as he fought to keep the viscous liquid down and shuddered at the aftertaste.
“You’re really sure you want to stay?” he tried one last time.
“We’ve talked about this,” you huffed indignantly and crossed your arms, “I’m not going anywhere.” Your features softened as you reached out to him and took his hand. “I’ll be with you. I know you won’t hurt me.”
He brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear with a loving gesture, gratitude written in his blue eyes. He pulled you into an embrace, burying his face in your soft hair, illuminated by the last rays of the setting sun.
The room was getting darker by the minute and you could feel Bill tensing even further under your touch. You pulled away from him but his attention wasn’t on you anymore; his gaze was fixed on the bright, perfectly round shape of the moon rising in the east, it’s light reflected in the inky waves crashing on the shore.
“Bill?” His name fell from your lips as a whisper and you cursed yourself for the uncertainty ringing in your voice.
“Bill, look at me,” you repeated, this time making sure to ban the tremor from your words.
His head whipped around to you in a sudden motion that made you jump; the silver moonlight illuminated one side of his face, his scars cutting across his handsome features in dark lines. Despite your resolve, you had to swallow a lump of fear building in your throat as his eyes bored into yours with a feral intensity you had never seen on him before. They took in every inch of your face with a sharpness that made you shudder; all of a sudden, the image of a rabbit sitting in front of a predator flashed in front of your inner eye.
As if in trance, he raised his hand to your throat, his calloused fingers coming to rest on the soft skin where you knew he could see your racing pulse. Your eyes widened in shock as his eyes darkened and a shadow crossed his face, twisting the features of the man you loved into something more sinister and dangerous. You inhaled sharply as you felt the pressure of his hand against your throat increase.
His eyes flickered at the sound of your breath, and he immediately let go of you. He staggered backwards, disgusted by the thoughts he’d been having only a moment ago. He turned his back towards you; he didn’t want you to see how scared he was.
“Go, please,” he growled, surprised by how much more aggressive his voice sounded than he had intended. “This is not safe for you.”
But he wasn’t the only one that had broken out of their spell. You closed the distance between them and turned him around so he had to face you. You reached up to him and took his face into both of your hands, your eyes locking on his.
“No,” you said with determination in your voice. “I’m not going anywhere; I promised you.”
You let go of his face and embraced him again, one hand running through his long hair while the other rubbed his back in slow, soothing motions.
Bill fought against your touch but slowly you could feel him relax under your hands. You felt his racing heartbeat slow as he concentrated on you. The hammering of your heart sounded unnaturally loud to him and he could sense the blood rushing through your pulsing veins under that soft, delicate skin of your throat.
He chose to concentrate on the gentle pull of his roots as your fingers tangled in his ginger hair and the shivers than were running down his spine as you brushed over the sensitive parts of his back you knew better than anyone else. The adrenaline coursing through his body that had left him feeling uncontrollably on edge gradually subsided. He lost himself in the calming scent of lavender as he buried his face in your hair.
You stayed like this for a long time, long after the full moon had risen past his zenith, entwined with each other. None of you spoke, no words were needed; it was just you and him, his safe haven among the fire raging inside him.
When he felt in control again, he pulled away from you, raising his hand to your chin to make you look at him.
Your eyes were soft and steady and for the first time since he had been injured, Bill didn’t feel scared by the silver light glowing around you anymore.
He felt you smile as he kissed you with all the love and tenderness he felt, eclipsing every trace of the anger and tension that had threatened to consume him earlier.
“Thank you for staying with me,” he murmured as he rested his forehead against yours.
Your lips curved into another gentle smile as you cupped his cheek with your hand.
“I told you,” you repeated your words for the third time that night, “I’m not going anywhere.”
3) (dialogue) “Take a chance. What harm can it do?”
Word Count: ~ 2.300
A/N: AU where Fleur meets Bill’s family before they get engaged.
____________________________________________
Bill Weasley had never been a superstitious man.
He had never listened to his mother’s old wives’ tales, nor cared for his father’s various ways of bringing about good luck. He had always smirked leniently when Charlie had gone through his pre-match rituals back at school and had long ago stopped questioning Ron’s doubtable fear of bad omens.
But today, everything was different.
Today, Bill had found himself jumping when Ginny had broken her glass at breakfast; his heart had skipped a beat when George had knocked over the salt shaker during lunch and he had felt the tips of his fingers tingle as he had subconsciously looked for any sign of the stray black cat visiting the Burrow from time to time.
He knew he was acting ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it; ever since waking up this morning to sunlight filtering into his old room and the silky hair of his girlfriend tickling his face, he had been out of his mind with nerves.
It was the first time he had taken Fleur to the Burrow to meet his family. Given, it wasn’t love at first sight for neither party involved and the atmosphere was a little more tense than what he was used to, but he could tell everyone was trying to get along; that wasn’t the problem.
No, what was actually making him nervous was the little red box he was carrying in the pocket of his trousers. Every time he moved and felt its corners against his leg, his mouth went dry and he had to fight the urge to panic.
Ever since he had met Fleur, when he had walked into her office at the Gringotts Headquarters, he had been sure she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Not because of her looks or her inherited Veela charm – although he couldn’t deny the appeal. No, what had won him over mere minutes into their first conversation was her personality.
He had never met a person more fierce and gentle, funny and witty. She was nothing like the perfect porcelain doll people made her out to be, an image she detested to the core of her being. Bill had felt it deep down back then, she was the one to complete him.
Bill had bought the ring he intended to give to her for ages ago, on his last work trip to Egypt. It wasn’t particularly elegant or fancy, but he thought Fleur would like it. Whenever he told her of his adventures, she hung onto his every word, his stories about ancient Egypt being her favourites. So when he had seen the delicate golden ring with a stylised lapis lazuli scarab on a bazaar in Cairo, he hadn’t thought twice. Haggling for an engagement ring had felt like weird thing to do and he had wondered if that was a good start for his endeavour, but he hadn’t wanted to be impolite.
Looking back now, he maybe should have trusted his initial instinct. He had been back in England for months now and it was almost time to leave again; the ring was still sitting in his small red box waiting to be presented, however.
And it was not like he was lacking enthusiasm to propose, quite the contrary.
The first time he had tried to ask Fleur the question of all questions, they had been at her favourite French restaurant. He had ordered champagne and the candles on their table had made her hair look like molten silver. It had been perfect, just until the couple on the table next to them had decided to break up very publicly and with a lot of thrown napkins, bitter curses and spilled wine.
The second time, Bill had cooked a three course meal for Fleur, giving it his all. He had taken care to prepare her favourite dishes the way her mother had explained it to him. They had just started on dessert and Bill had nervously fingered the box in his pocket when his family’s owl had crashed against the window so badly they had to rush and get him treated.
Bill had tried not to get discouraged by all his failed attempts. In the spirit of third time's the charm, he had taken great care and called some favours to make sure everything went right this time. A friend of his, who was skilled at weather charms, had promised to write his question into the sky for him; all he needed to do was show up with Fleur at the right place and time.
But she had come home from work late that day, tired, with a headache and in no mood to go anywhere. Desperate and nervous, Bill had urged her to come with him until she had snapped and they had had one of the worst fights Bill could remember.
No, Bill Weasley wasn’t a superstitious man; but seeing how many things went wrong already, he couldn’t help but feel on edge.
He had seen a lot of places over the course of his career; seeing how his attempts to propose to Fleur had gone so far, he couldn’t shake the thought that this would be his fourth attempt. Where three times was the charm, the prospect of number four made him uneasy.
Bill remembered his first work trip to Asia; the headquarters he had been supposed to get back to had been an inconspicuously looking building along the main street bearing the house number 4. He had been surprised to see that it wasn’t even enchanted to not be seen by Muggles until his colleague had explained to him why. There was no need to hide their headquarters because people wouldn’t even look at it for fear of something bad happening. The people believed that the number 4 was an ultimate omen of bad luck, the native word for it sounding almost the same as the word for ‘death’.
And right now, on the verge of attempt number four, Bill was dying more than a thousand deaths with every second the moment was drawing nearer.
He had chosen his timing carefully; his mother had gone into the village to run some errands, his father was off for work. Charlie and Percy had long since moved out and everyone else was busy playing Quidditch in the fields behind the Burrow. For once, the ramshackled house he grew up in was empty, save for themselves.
They were sitting under the huge tree in the corner of the garden where Bill and his siblings had played with the tire swing attached to a lower branch when they were children; the old treehouse reminiscent of his childhood was still sitting in the higher parts of the treetop. A slight breeze was blowing, making the leaves around the treehouse rustle unusually loud.
He had prepared a picnic for them but even the strawberries Bill had picked from the garden himself tasted like ash in his mouth as he mentally braced himself. He set his food aside and breathed in deeply.
It was time to take the initiative, once and for all. He would make sure there wouldn’t be a fifth time.
Leaning forward, he took Fleurs hand in his, sending a prayer to Merlin himself that she wouldn’t notice how sweaty his hand had become.
She looked at him in surprise. “What’s the matter? You are looking so serious.”
Despite his nervousness, a proud smile tugged at the corners of Bill’s mouth; her French accent had almost vanished since she had moved to England but the ‘s’ were still rolling from her perfect lips like a soft song, sending a shiver down his spine.
“It’s nothing, I just wanted to tell you how glad I am that you are here with me,” he started but trailed off again. He had prepared what he wanted to say beforehand, but all the sweet words were forgotten. “You know, this is my family, my family home. You and them getting along is so important to me, I wouldn’t know what to do if you didn’t. It would be a disaster, it… “
Bill noticed he was rambling and stopped. Judging by Fleur’s sceptically raised eyebrows, he wasn’t exactly manoeuvring himself into a good position.
He took a deep breath, collected his thoughts and tried again. “What I wanted to say is, they are the most important thing to me in the world; my family. But ever since I met you, things have started to change. All my life, my family was the first thing on my mind; but not anymore.”
Bill had shifted from his seating position onto his knees, fumbling with the box inside his pocket. The wind seemed to have picked up, the leaves above them rustling louder than ever.
“The first thing on my mind is you, and it has been you ever since we met.” His heart was pounding in his ears as he took the small red box out. “That’s why I wanted to ask you – “
His words were cut short by something colourful whizzing through the air from up above him. He just had time to see two identical mops of ginger hair vanish between the branches of the tree again, before the water balloon the twins had thrown exploded right in between them.
Fleur shrieked and jumped out of the way as the bright orange liquid washed over them – Bill shuddered at the thought of what it might be.
Slowly, he raised his eyes from his own stained hands to Fleur; his eyes widened in horror as she started cursing violently. Even now, the rapid succession of angry French words spilling out of her mouth sounded beautiful to him, but her face was like thunder. The liquid had stained her silvery hair an orange colour almost the same as his own and Fleur’s tirade only intensified as she inspected the ends of it.
Bill’s heart sank at the sight and he felt a rush of burning anger at his little brothers for ruining his moment. Apparently, the fourth time was as unlucky as it was made out to be.
Discouraged, Bill hung his head. He wasn’t sure if Fleur had already seen the box before they had gotten pranked. Cursing Fred and George under his breath, he tried shielding it from her eyes with the back of his hand. But of course, she noticed the sudden change in his demeanour.
The crease between her brows softened as she reached for his hand. “I’m surprised you’re cursing them so much. This is new for me, but I thought you would be used to this.”
He shook his head. “Because they always have to ruin everything.”
Fleur’s nose wrinkled as she glanced down at her ruined hair and blouse again. “It’s a horrible prank. Just look at us, we’re looking ghastly. But I’m sure they didn’t mean bad.”
Bill sighed; he knew she was upset but was trying to make him feel better anyway. “They never do. But still, if I get my hands on them, I could kill them.”
Fleur shook her head, orange stained hair falling into her face. “No you couldn’t. You love your family just the way you love everything, with all of your heart.”
She smiled at him, the warmth in it making Bill’s heart flutter. “That’s what makes you so special.”
He blinked at her in surprise. “So you’re not mad?”
Fleur tossed her hair over her shoulder, a flicker of dismay crossing her face. “A bit; look at my hair, it’s looking just the same as yours now. But they’re your family. If I want to love you for the rest of my life, I will learn to love them, too.”
She intertwined her fingers with his and got up, pulling him along with her. “Because that is what I want to do; loving you for the rest of my life, as a part of your family. If you want that too, that is.”
Bill couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had always known Fleur to be brave, but he would never have figured her to be brave enough to take the initiative from him on herself.
He cleared his throat. “Are you really sure this is what you want? There is no me without this madness.” To drive his point home, he rubbed a smudge of orange from her cheek with his thumb. She chuckled at the sensation.
“This madness made the man that I love; how could I not want that?”
She took a step away from him and tilted her head to the side. “So, I think there’s something you wanted to ask me?”
Bill blinked incredulously. “You still want me to? Even though we’re all orange?”
Fleur’s laugh was like music to his ears. “Even though we’re all orange. Take a chance. What harm can it do?”
And just like that, looking at her smiling at him, his nervousness ceased. He felt completely calm, nothing but certainty left inside his heart.
He let go of Fleur’s hand and got down to one knee, both of them already smiling so widely it hurt his cheeks as he reproduced the now spattered red box again.
“Fleur Isabelle Delacour, do you want to give me the honour of becoming my wife, no matter how insane the ride will get?”
With a laugh bordering on a sob, Fleur sank to her knees next to him, showering his face in kisses, muttering “Yes!” over and over again.
Bill slipped the scarab ring onto her finger, the blue stone shining in the sunlight. He pulled his fiancée into a tight embrace, his face buried in her orange hair. Breathing in the lavender scent of her perfume, Bill felt a happiness wash over him greater than anything he could ever have imagined.
Hey Ella I was wondering if I could have 🕊for Marauders era Sirius Black. I am Slytherin, Taurus, ENTJ. I hope this is the right information lol. Thank you so much ❤️
ok i'm sorry if this isn't great cause you didn't give me a Ton to work with but i'll do my best. basically i'm just goin with the slytherin thing- i hope you enjoy it!! 🤍🦢 (btw my name is elia :))
🕊 - send me a character and as much information about yourself as you’d like and i’ll write a blurb about what i think your relationship with that character would be like!
You scowl, looking up from your book to see none other than Sirius Black sauntering into the library, one and on James Potter's shoulder and the other brandishing his wand. He catches your eye and smirks, and you know you're in for an ass-load of trouble.
"Hey, (Y/L/N)," he says, taking a seat in front of you.
"Black," you acknowledge stonily.
"Good book?"
"What do you want?" You ignore his question.
Sirius sighs dramatically. "Must you always assume I have an ulterior motive? Perhaps I just want to talk to the only Slytherin I can tolerate."
"You always have an ulterior motive, Black."
He winces. "Okay, yeah, I do." He bites his lip. "I... need you to pretend to be my girlfriend."
You stare at him. "Yeah, I'm done playing your games." You slam your book shut and stuff it in your bag, headed out of the library.
"No, no no no, (Y/N), wait." He grabs your wrist to stop you from leaving. "Please. I need my family to think I'm following their bigoted pureblood Slytherin expectations or they'll pull me out of Hogwarts and homeschool me. I can't do that, (Y/L/N), Hogwarts is the only place that feels like home to me. If they think I'm dating you, a Slytherin in a prestigious pureblood family, I'll be off the hook. It's just for the holidays, (Y/N), please."
You look into Sirius's desperate face and feel something in you soften. "Fine," you relent, sighing. "But only for a week. Then we never see each other again."
Sirius nods. "Deal." He holds his hand out for you to shake, and you roll your eyes but grasp it firmly. Something mischievous twinkles in his eye and he pulls your hand up to kiss it. "I'll see you over break, my love."
As he walks away, you can't shake the feeling you've made a big mistake.
You are in love with Sirius Black, and Sirius Black is in love with Dahlia Bellemore. Now, you don’t know this for sure - he’s never admitted it upfront, and he never interacts with her unless they’re working on their Charms project - but there’s no way he isn’t. Dahlia is gorgeous - long wavy blonde hair, sparkly blue eyes, perfect rosy cheeks - there’s no way he hasn’t fallen for her.
You’re Sirius’s best friend, and his best friend only. You’ve known each other since you met in your first year on the Hogwarts Express, and you’ve been inseparable ever since. The only problem is that the constant interaction caused you to fall for your friend, and only deepened his purely platonic view of you.
So now you’re here, sitting in the Gryffindor common room with your three other best friends, waiting for the boy you’re in love with to come back from studying with the girl he’s in love with. Things are just great.
You curl further into yourself on the couch, trying to hone out your thoughts with the words in your book.
“What’s wrong, (Y/N)?” Remus asks, concerned.
You purse your lips. “Nothing.”
“Oh, isn’t it obvious, Moony?” says James with a teasing smirk. “Whiskers misses her boyfriend.”
You scowl. “He isn’t my boyfriend.”
“Oh, certainly. The two of you are just constantly all over each other and get your knickers in a twist every time the other’s away. Totally platonic, though.”
You sigh. “He doesn’t like me like that.”
James bursts out laughing. “Whiskers, what the hell are you talking about? That boy’s been in love with you since first year.”
You open your mouth indignantly, about to retort when Sirius walks in. “Moony, Wormtail, Prongs!” He plops down beside you, putting his arm around your shoulders and kissing your forehead. “And Whiskers, of course.”
James shoots you a pointed look.
You ignore him, cuddling against Sirius’s side. “How’d studying with Dahlia go?”
Sirius scrunches his nose. “Oh, it was a bore. Nothing but school and more school, blah blah blah.”
“That is what studying tends to focus on,” Remus points out.
Sirius grins and winks. “Not the way I like to do it.”
You stiffen. There it is. He wants to have sex with Dahlia. You swallow and stand up. “I’m… gonna go. Little tired, ‘kay?”
Sirius frowns. “What? We haven’t even had dinner yet.”
You bite your lip. “Yeah, I- I know. I’ll- I just need a nap.”
Sirius deflates, but nods. “All- All right. Have a good rest.”
You nod, turning away and heading to your dorm as you wipe tears away from your face.
~
You come to dinner only because you don’t want your friends to worry. You take your usual spot next to Sirius but can’t stomach a bite, too preoccupied with intrusive thoughts of your best friend and Dahlia Bellemore hitting it up in the boys’ dorm.
“C’mon, (Y/N/N), eat something,” Remus urges, eyebrows pulled together in worry.
“It’s okay,” you say, forcing a smile. “I’m just not very hungry.”
“(Y/N).” Sirius grabs your wrist, seeming almost frightened. “Please eat something.”
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, pulling your arm away and running out of the great hall.
You’re on your way to your dorm, tears streaming down your cheeks yet again, when you hear footsteps behind you.
“(Y/N), wait up!” Sirius runs up to you and grabs both your hands. “What’s going on? And don’t say ‘nothing’, cause I know that’s bullshit.”
You try to keep your composure, but your bottom lip won’t stop trembling. “I- I- “ You collapse into his arms, sobbing.
“Hey, hey, talk to me, (Y/N/N), what’s wrong?” His voice is soft as he runs his fingers through your hair soothingly.
“I can’t stand it,” you whisper.
“Can’t stand what? I don’t know what you’re talking about, love.”
You exhale another sob. “Her. I can’t stand the way you talk about her.”
Sirius pulls away, a confused frown on his face. “Her? Who are you talking about?”
You laugh bitterly. “Oh, don’t play dumb, Sirius. Dahlia.”
“Bellemore?” Sirius lets out a confused laugh. “Love, there’s nothing going on between Bellemore and me. To be honest, I really don’t even like her.”
You wipe your eyes, confused. “Wh- what? But I thought…”
“(Y/N), I’m in love with you,” he says, cupping your cheek. “It’s always been you.”
You inhale shakily. “Really?”
He shakes his head, laughing. “What does this tell you?” He leans in and presses his lips to yours, kissing softly and then more passionately, lifting you up in his arms.
“I love you,” you tell him breathlessly when you break apart.
Sirius leans his forehead against yours. “I love you too.”
First installment of Electra Heart, really excited about this section as it’s my favorite MARINA album. Draco Malfoy x Reader
Gender: female
House: not specified
Summary: You have a friends with benefits relationship with Draco Malfoy. When you realize you might be developing feelings for him, you cut ties with him, much to the boy’s dismay.
- requested by the lovely Abby ( @bforbroadway ) a good long while ago, so sorry about that! I hope you enjoy this though
warnings: little swearing, pretty awful writing but I went with it since this is the most I’ve been able to write in a week and its soulmate prompt 5 where whatever is on your soulmates skin appears on yours!
word count; 2000+
It was the bane of his existence. Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Prince, stuck with childish drawings all over his arms and hands every single day. They were getting increasingly difficult to hide with summer approaching and the weather heating up - making long sleeves a dangerous option. But every time he washed them away, more appeared almost instantly. It’s as if whoever it was, was carrying a quill and ink with them everywhere they went.
Soulmates weren’t something Draco believed in, especially when his soulmate seemed to be a childish annoyance. It wasn’t real, it was just a random pick of the cards. The only reason people actually fall in love with their soulmates is because they think they’re supposed to, but you don’t have to. There’s always a choice. Love isn’t any different, right?
It was these thoughts that coursed through his mind on a daily basis, distracting him from most other things. For someone who didn’t believe in it, he sure thought about it quite often. In fact, he was thinking about it at this very moment as he washed the sketches of flowers and hearts from his skin, watching the ink wash away in the sink below him - watching all remnants of his soulmate wash away with it. He didn’t need a soulmate. He didn’t.
-
“Dang it,” you mumble, watching as your drawings disappear from your skin again.
Doodling on your skin was such a habit that you never thought of it affecting your soulmate the way it seemed to. But when they started washing it all off just to spite you, you started drawing them back on immediately after just to spite them. There was something deep down inside you that hoped to see the same sketches on another’s skin, that way you’d know - you’d know who it was, who you were destined for. But they never let you get too close.
Being in Hufflepuff kept you from taking things too far. Your friends had urged you to draw on your face to really make a statement, but you refused. There was no use in making them angry at you before they’d even met you. So instead, you continued to draw on your arms as you always had done, waiting to find someone with arms that mirrored your own.
Dipping your quill in the ink beside you on your desk, you scratch it against your skin, drawing a rainbow without colours. Underneath, you added the fluffy clouds and a small pot of gold on your wrist. There was something oddly amusing thinking about your soulmate’s face as you drew ridiculous images on yourself. Hearts and flowers take up most of the remaining free space, and now feeling satisfied, you place your quill in your bag and leave the empty ink pot at your desk. But the satisfaction wears off, thinking about the soulmate who seemingly couldn’t accept you.
-
“Oh piss off,” Draco sighs, lifting his sleeves up to see a whole array of drawings across his arms and hands. He lets his head fall backwards, dropping over the back of his chair with a loud groan.
“What’s wrong with you?” Pansy asks, smirking slightly. He doesn’t respond audibly, just lifts his arms in shame for her to see. Looking at Draco’s arms, she manages to hold in her laughter, but only barely.
“That’s really something,” she grins, “You know, there’s this girl in my Charms class who always has drawings on her arms. She’s a Hufflepuff though,” She seethes, perfectly content that Draco would never go for her.
“A Hufflepuff? That just proves soulmates are an absurd business,” he scoffs, pulling his sleeves back down. She was real?
“Exactly,” Pansy agrees, placing her hand on Draco’s arm and smiling up at him expectantly, leaning in slightly. Whether it was the fact that Pansy had the audacity to believe Draco wanted to be with her, or because she’d actually touched him, he didn’t know, but he rose abruptly from his seated position, staring at her in awe.
“However absurd, it doesn’t give you the green light,” he snarls, walking away and into his dorm.
He clutches where she’d touched, his breathing not quite steady. That was where his soulmate had made their mark, and Pansy touching it made him feel an indescribable anger. He wasn’t hers. But- no, he wasn’t anyone's, especially not some Hufflepuff’s - and that was bargaining on the off chance Pansy was telling the truth. So once again, he washes every last bit of ink off his arms, every last piece of evidence.
-
“I can’t tell if they hate me or the drawings…or both,” you sigh, playing around with your untouched breakfast.
“I’m sure it’s nothing, maybe they just don’t want hearts and flowers all over their arms. I mean, not everyone enjoys staining their skin,” you friend muses.
“I know, it just feels like something more than that. You’d think after all this time they’d just let up.”
“Maybe they thought you would,” they counter. You’d never thought about that, it had never even crossed your mind. Maybe you should stop, clearly your soulmate wasn’t happy with you doing the opposite. If it was meant to be, you’d find them, and if it wasn’t then you wouldn’t. But this almost felt like giving up. Should you give up?
“You’re right. I’ll let up,” you decide, shovelling your cereal into your mouth, giving in to an invisible force that doesn’t want you.
Days had passed and every urge you had to doodle on your skin, you replaced with doodling on spare parchment. It felt a little wrong to waste parchment, but you had to. There was a doodling-on-skin strike to be upheld and you weren’t about to cave. You wondered if your soulmate noticed. No, of course they noticed, what you really wondered was whether they cared or if they were just happy to have their arms clean. Every time a day passed without so much of an indication from your soulmate made the next day a little harder to wake up to. There was something comforting in watching the drawings disappear from your arms - it meant they were there, they were real.
-
It had been days since anything appeared on Draco’s arms. At first, he was delighted that his arms were his own, but now he was ashamed to say that he missed those doodles. There was no explanation to their disappearance, it wasn’t gradual, it was a sudden lack of his soulmate’s presence. He knew he had a reputation around Hogwarts, he knew that, and maybe that was part of the reason for his anxiety. What if as soon as they found out it was him, they’d leave without giving him a chance? He wouldn’t give himself a chance if the situation were reversed, so why should he expect anyone else to? He couldn’t. And as much as he refused to believe in soulmates, he couldn’t help that small part of him from yearning for them.
As the hours passed, Pansy’s words were becoming louder and louder inside his head. ‘There’s this girl in my Charms class who always has drawings on her arms. She’s a Hufflepuff’. How could he find her? Was it her? Why did he want to find her? He didn’t know, but he didn’t care anymore, he wanted to see her. He was well versed in skipping classes, this would be just another day. The day he’d meet his soulmate. ‘Just another day’ he told himself.
Peering into the class where he knew Pansy was sitting and grumbling in, Draco’s eyes wander over to the Hufflepuffs. He didn’t know what he was expecting to find there. He didn’t know what this girl looked like, he didn’t know who she was and now there were no doodles on her arms to distinguish her from the rest. He scans the students, hoping that when he saw her, he’d know. But he didn’t, he didn’t see anyone that made him feel anything like that.
“Oof,” someone says from behind him after colliding with him. Ink spills all over her, her robes, arms and specks on her face. Looking at her, his breath hitches. Her hair is pulled back with a ribbon, wisps of it falling across her face and over the specks of black ink now littered there; her y/e/c eyes widening at the ink covering floorboards and then to himself.
“Oh Merlin, I’ve gotten it all over you. I’m so sorry,” she fusses.
But Draco hadn’t felt any ink spill onto him, he still didn’t feel anything, even with her mentioning it. But she was right, there was ink all over him. He takes her arm, pulling it over to his so he can look at them both. The same ink pattern is sprawled across them both, spanning over their arms and covering all their fingers but the ring finger, which only has a small spot of ink on it. As if the same thoughts are running through her head as she looks up to him with wide eyes.
“I’ve got to go, sorry,” she says, picking up the ink pot and rushing into class without even washing her face of the ink.
Draco remains standing there, completely awestruck. Did she hate him or had she not realised like he did? But it was her, and she was beautiful, and she hated him...and she was real. He scolded himself for ever believing this would work, but now more than ever he wanted it to. How could he make it work? Leaning against the wall, he looks at the ink spilled across the floor. The ink - he knows exactly what he has to do.
-
“You alright y/n? You’ve been acting weird all day,” you friend says, a concerned expression gracing their face. You think back to your altercation with Draco. It all made sense now. No wonder he hated the doodles, no wonder he hated you. Draco Malfoy would never be with a Hufflepuff, let alone you. But something about the way he looked at you gave you hope. Maybe it was false hope, but until he crushed it completely, it would remain.
“Yeah, just tired,” you lie, catching a glimpse of Draco at the Slytherin table.
He’s alone, no friends by his side at the very end of the table. That wasn’t particularly usual of him. You watch as he dips his quill in ink and scratches something down. Then again, homework often needed the absence of friends. Turning away and back to your own table, you smile at your friends, with him in the back of your mind. Though his reputation preceded him, you couldn’t help but want to know what was beyond that reputation. You were inexplicably drawn to him. If only he was to you.
“I thought you said you weren’t going to doodle on your arms anymore, y/n,” your friend remarks, raising an eyebrow in disapproval.
Your heart skips a beat, your stomach drops and your eyes flicker to your arms. Seeing a small heart, flower and rainbow surrounding the words ‘A chance?’, your mouth falls open in disbelief. You break out into a smile, finding Draco’s eyes already locked onto you from across the room. Scoffing, you stand up and exit the hall with a huge grin plastered on your face. You hope that he’ll follow you.
Draco launches himself up from his seat, following your smile - a smile he hoped to see more often than not. His palms become sweaty as he walks with pace outside of the Great Hall in search of you. He didn’t have to look far, you were leaning against the wall just outside waiting for him. Could you really be giving him a chance? He didn’t know why he wanted one. Just being involved with a Hufflepuff could land him being disowned. Would that really be so bad? He meets your eyes and matches your contagious smile and all fears melt away. He didn’t have to think about that now. He just had to think about you - a task he would meet with ease.
Hoping to see that smile more, you walk to meet him in the middle. He looked much better with a smile than a scowl.
“A chance,” you agree, holding out your hand for him to shake. He takes yours in his, the connection sending shock waves through your body from the feeling of his skin on yours - where it all started.
Just found your tumblr cuz the Chudley Canon Ficfest, and love the way you wrote about Teodorie! So I’ve a rest from prompt list: “12 fluff” to Teodorie
Hey there! So glad you found me! Thanks for the ask - I hope you enjoy this little drabble <3
**********
Three and a half months was far too long to go without seeing your girlfriend. At least, that’s been the thought that had consumed Teddy’s mind for the last 110 days. But there was nothing he could do except wait until it was time to see Victoire again.
Every attempt he’d made at getting time off work to meet her for a Hogsmeade weekend had been foiled, and the same went for the chance to catch James, Dom, and Roxy in the November Quidditch match at Hogwarts. Being a Healer-in-Training has wreaked havoc on his schedule and social life since he began with the program in September. Teddy knew it was a small price to pay to achieve the goals and dreams he’d been harboring for as long as he could remember once he was a fully trained Healer. In homage to his parents, he wanted to study more about lycanthropy and metamorphmagi, so he spent most of his days in the labs of St. Mungo’s, learning everything he could from Healers who were already well into the field.
But now Teddy had acquired a few days off in anticipation of Vic coming home, and he intended to spend as much time with her as possible. Checking that he had everything, Teddy apparated to the Burrow, where he was meeting the rest of the Weasleys and Potters for some holiday festivities.
It was cold and blustery outside, so much so that Teddy ran from the apparition point to the door of the cozy home, shutting it quickly behind him so he wouldn’t let the cold air in. He barely shed his coat and set his boots aside before the familiar floral scent overwhelmed his senses. Vic wasted no time throwing her arms around him and Teddy relaxed as he fell into his girlfriend’s comforting embrace.
“Hey.”
“It’s about time you showed up! Leaving me with all the younger cousins like that,” Vic teased.
“You know I had to work,” Teddy reminded her with a smile. “But now I’ve got the next five days off, and I’m all yours.”
Vic flashed Teddy her widest smile as she pulled him toward the sitting room. In an effort to be polite, he greeted all of the adults first, and then sat on the sofa next to Vic.
“So, how was the term?”
“Haven’t you read my letters?”
“Well, yeah, but I’m sure there’s other stuff you haven’t written about. How are your N.E.W.T.s classes? Any new blokes hitting on you that I should know about?”
Vic rolled her eyes. “You know I don’t have eyes for anyone else.”
“But that isn’t always enough to stop certain people.”
“Hmm, like Billy Harrington perhaps?” Vic dragged a finger across Teddy’s thigh as she saw right through his attempted subtlety.
“Has he been coming on to you again?” Teddy’s spine straightened, despite knowing that Vic was goading him.
She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “You know my heart belongs to you.”
Sitting back in her spot, she launched into a detailed description of the most recent weeks at Hogwarts as Teddy listened to her tales.
“The end of term Christmas Ball was less than thrilling. It’s a lot less fun without a date, even with Fred making a fool of himself on the dance floor…”
As Teddy listened to her voice, he was reminded of how fond he was of her. It was amazing how far they’d come. When they were young, he couldn’t stand the sound of her voice. She was a whiny little girl who followed him everywhere and nagged when he wouldn’t let her play with him. Eventually, she became less of an annoyance, and their relationship morphed into partners in crime, and they became inseparable until he left for Hogwarts. He always assumed his feelings for Vic were only protective, like that of a brother, at least that’s what he tried to convince himself of. But he wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all himself, about fancying Victoire, and by the start of his sixth year, he knew he was a goner. It was a miracle that she reciprocated them.
“...can you believe it?”
Oh, no. He’d zoned out, and lost track of the conversation.
“Sorry, could you say that again?” Teddy grimaced at Vic catching him being inattentive.
“Teddy Lupin, were you not listening to me?” she raised a curious eyebrow.
“No, I was! I was just—I like hearing the sound of your voice.”
Though he meant the excuse as a statement, it came out as more of a question.
A loud laugh escaped her lips, and Teddy knew he wasn’t fooling her. “If I’m boring you that much, perhaps we can sneak upstairs under the guise of joining the younger cousins. I can think of a few other ways to capture your attention.”
Grinning, Teddy wasted no time heading for the stairs, with Vic hot on his heels. He heard Bill calling after them, but hoped that Harry or Fleur might distract him long enough to get a few snogs in, but until then, he’d take his chances with fate.
Fleur apperated onto the doorstep of the flat she shared with the man who held her fragile heart in his hands. She juggled a box of untouched brownies in her arms that she had carted all the way across London as she worked to let herself into the dark empty flat. She waved her wand unenthusiastically igniting the light bulbs brighting the room. Fleur’s defeated body dropped into the soft cushions of the sofa before setting down the box on the table.
Frowning she reached forward taking one of the squares of brownie she had made from scratch specially for Bill. In an attempt to comfort the churn of emotions she was experiencing letting the chocolate dance across her tongue’s taste buds and fill her bloodstream with sugar.
She had decided it would be a nice idea to surprise Bill with his favourite sweet treat as he worked overtime that evening at Gringotts. He had been working overtime every week and she wanted to reward his hard work. But when she arrived he was no where to be found. She searched all the places she knew and came to the conclusion he had travelled deep down into the vaults hidden far underground, a place in the bank she didn’t like to venture to. So she had inquired with one of the goblins but he had assured her that Bill was not working that evening nor had he ever worked overtime. Fleur walked away feeling foolish and embarrassed.
Her head swirled with questions, with concerns and doubts. Why would he lie to me? The thought tugging at her heart bringing tears to her eyes.
“I know that it doesn’t make sense, but, hear me out. My love for you transcends this world. What do you hope for the person that you love? That they’ll be happy, and that they’ll be safe. I tried to do that for you. I thought that, ultimately, you’d be happier, and safer, if I wasn’t in your life. I love you so much, my darling, so much that I made the only logical move I could see. I thought that preserving the secrecy of the Order and your happiness and safety were of the utmost importance. I would do anything for you and, admittedly, some of those things were stupid, I understand that now. I’m so sorry.”
That was a very little request of Fleur to ask of him. Asking to be trusted with his secrets was not a fancy dinner or a diamond necklace. If he could not agree to that simple request, he had no business asking for her to give him a second chance. These were enough lies to make any rational person leave, and here Fleur was willing to sit across from him and listen to his explanations. “If that’s what you need from me, then I’ll give it to you.” He agreed. Truth be told if Fleur wanted him to jump out their third story window he’d probably do that, if that’s what Fleur needed to move on with him.
“My intention is not to put you through that again. I know that I have a new bridge of trust to build with you. I don’t care if I have to build it brick by brick, I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust again. And yours,” he turned his attention towards Giselle, who had now made herself comfortable across Fleur’s lap, “If you give me another chance, we can create the life together that we’d always talked about.”
Fleur shook her head “You are crazy eef you zink I would be ‘appier wizout you in my life. Zese last days wizout you ‘ave been ‘orrible.” She couldn’t believe he thought if he removed himself from her life she would be happier, where had he been these last 10 months. He had made her happier than she’d ever been, her friends and family had seen the change in her since starting dating Bill, her glow had brightened. She would have guessed Bill too had seen the difference, or believed her when she expressed how strongly she felt about him.
Fleur didn’t need a fancy dinner or a expensive gift to make her happy all she needed was Bill. “I want to be the person you tell everything to, to be ze first one to celebrate with you when somezing goes well or to ‘elp you when somezing goes wrong? eez zat selfish? I just want you to feel safe to share anyzing wiz me, like you make me feel. When I got ze role I wanted in ze ballet performance you were ze first one I wanted to tell, and when I fell and ‘urt myself at rehearsal. You are ze one who knows all my secrets and dreams, how I truely feel when I ‘ide zem from ozers.
Giselle shifted her head to give Bill an angry stare before unfolding herself from Fleurs lap and jumping off the sofa and slaunting away out of sight. She was going to be more difficult to convince to be forgiven.
Fleur’ heart was fighting with her head, her heart wanted to forgive him and find her way back to what they had, she had missed him. While her head was having a hard time forget what he had done, the pain he had caused was still fresh and was attempting to protect herself from that heartbreak again. “I want what we ‘ad back but you ‘urt me and my trust I ‘ad eez not ze same. I cannot just jump back in where we left off.”
“No one’s ever loved me as fiercely as you do, Fleur Delacour.” That was true. Bill had a girlfriend before Fleur, but he didn’t remember her loving him as passionately as Fleur did. Fleur set his soul on fire, she awakened desires in him that he never knew existed. He almost didn’t know how to handle being loved so devotedly. Realizing how much he meant to Fleur was both exciting as it was a little scary. He’d never been as responsible for someone’s happiness as he was now.
“No, it’s not selfish. It’s what I should have done with you since the beginning.” He knew that she was asking for the rights she’s owed as his partner. She was far more than just someone he shared a home, and bed, with, but, that’s exactly how he’d been treating her without realizing the extent of the emotional damage he was causing to Fleur.
“I’m not asking you to pick up where we left off. I know that the hurt I caused you is too great for you to forget. What I’m asking for is forgiveness; that you’ll give me the chance to earn your trust back, again.” Bill wasn’t daft. He didn’t expect Fleur to leap into his arms like Giselle would, and cuddle up to him as if nothing had occurred. Any normal person would feel the hurt and betrayal that Fleur had experienced, and they would not be any quicker to forgive Bill’s transgressions, “We can take things slow, if you’d like.” He offered, unsure what that would mean from Fleur’s perspective. He knew that he was going to have to agree to Fleur’s terms if she were to invite him back into her life. Maybe she wouldn’t even let him back into their bed yet. He’d sleep in the living room with Giselle if need be. That is, if Giselle was willing to share her space.
Fleur loved Bill so strongly, she’d never loved anyone like she did Bill and Bill leaving did not change that, her heart, now cracked and broken never stopped belonging to him. His leaving wounded Fleur but made her realise how intense her love was for him.
Fleur sat silently for a moment, her mind not so silent as his words, his promises swirled around in her brain with her own fears, doubts and desires. She wanted this, she had wishes him to come home to her, she had never wanted him to leave but her broken heart was fearful of if he was to leave again. The fact that he left so suddenly, impulsively, without talking to her, and that’s what scared her. What if something went wrong, would he just run away again? She held his face in her gaze, she missed that face, those eyes that looked at her with love, and she could still see that love in those eyes. She could see the genuineness in his eyes when he said he wouldn’t leave again. “Promise me?” Her voice fragile.
She was having to dredge up the courage to trust him again. The idea of him leaving again scared her but what was worse was a life without him. The image of him not being in her life created a throbbing ache, it felt as though there was a deep gaping hole in her heart. Fleur finally nodded “Ok.” She smiled softly. Fleur shifted in her seat, shuffling to the edge of the sofa towards Bill, her bare knees grazing against his jeans.
He held Fleur’s gaze, knowing that his eyes spoke more than words could ever articulate. He was bearing his soul to her. Now that she knew about the Order, he had no reason to hide anything else from her.
“I promise.” He vowed in a soft tone, “Thank you,” he lifted Fleur’s hand up and pressed his lips tenderly against her knuckles. When he lifted his head up and noticed her shuffling closer to him, he stood up and pulled her up with him. The space between the sofa and coffee table was narrow enough that they were almost chest-to-chest when they stood. Slowly he pulled her body against his own and wrapped his thick, long arms around her shoulders. He wished that he was an octopus with eight tentacles so he could embrace her more. Even as their bodies were pressed up against one another’s, Bill didn’t feel like he was close enough to her. He needed to feel more of her familiar body, but, he was going to be a gentleman and give her control over the reigns in their relationship.
Unbeknownst to Fleur, she was probably in the safest place from harm she could possibly be. In Bill’s hole was all the love and protection that he had to offer her. Their tight embrace was like an impenetrable wall of love that surrounded them as long as they touched. He knew that it was blissful ignorance more than anything else that spurned this feeling, but, it didn’t matter. Peace of mind was worth more than gold during times of helplessness. What Bill did know was that he felt stronger: like a more capable wizard when he and Fleur held one another. He felt invincible. No one could harm him as long as Fleur’s arms were tightly wound around him.
With his arms still around her, he craned his neck so he could press a kiss against her shoulder. With his fingers pressing into her body, he could feel the material of the shirt she was wearing. He hadn’t noticed until now that she was dressed in one of his t-shirts. It made the corners of his lips turn up in a subtle smile.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Bill must’ve asked Fleur for the hundredth time that evening. But, Bill wasn’t the only one. Molly was so nervous for the other Order members that she wound up creating a marvelous spread in order to busy her anxious mind. Her sons and husband were about to embark on a dangerous mission. That mission: Retrieve Harry from Privet Drive and, hopefully, safely escort him back to the Burrow. There wasn’t a single Order member that refused this mission. Mundungus Fletcher, whom Mad-Eye had pressured into accompanying them, did not count.
He and Fleur were standing in the narrow, second story hallway: the only space at the Burrow that granted them a private moment from the other people in the house. The pair of them had been staying at the Burrow for the past several weeks, and in the days now leading up to their wedding. Their sleeping arrangements had been less than satisfactory as of late. Once Charlie arrived, Fleur was pushed out of Bill’s room and into Ginny’s. Bill hadn’t shared a room with Charlie since their infancy, but the two men were like boys again when they got back together. But, he had missed his fiancé and was eager to whisk her away to their new home.
“‘Scuse us, mate.”
“Pardon me, m’Lady.” Fred and George spoke as they stepped between Bill and Fleur and made their way down the stairs.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Now it was Remus’s turn to be afraid. But, from Bill’s perspective, he had a greater reason to be. Tonks was pregnant, but not incapable of defending herself or others.
“Remus, my darling, I’ll be fine.” She tried to reassure him.
“Keep the kettle on and the fire warm, Mollywobbles. We’ll be back before you know it.” Arthur tried to reassure his wife as Ginny hugged her body to her father’s side. She too was nervous, but Ginny was silent; resilient, like her father. Bill, however, was like his mother and everyone around him could see him fidgeting with the rings on his fingers and pacing through the living room. He wasn’t worried for himself, of course, but Fleur. By assuming Harry’s identity, she was turning herself into an even bigger target. He was going to fly her into hostile territory and his grip on the thestral would prevent him from defending her. However, he tried to remind himself that he and Fleur had dueled each other many times and she always bested him. He needed to exhibit confidence in her capabilities as a witch and focus on returning them safely to the Burrow.
“Let’s go! Hurry up!” Mad-Eye lectured as he stepped across the threshold, waiting for the others to join him outside.
Ron, who was too anxious to indulge in his mother’s cooking, shared a look of acceptance with Hermione before he followed her outside. Hagrid was tending to the thestrals out on the grass and Kingsley had just arrived with a ‘pop’ and emerged from the cornfield.
