So, hereâs my PSA. DO NOT, under any circumstance, repost my works on any other platform or even on this one. I donât condone it, havenât condoned it, and never will.
If you post my works on another account or anywhere on the web without my express permission in written form, I can and will prosecute you under the full law because plagiarism is a crime. No exceptions.
This also goes for AI. If I find out that my work is being inputted into AI for any reason, I shall hate you forever. I do not consent to my work being touched by AI for any reason whatsoever.
âYou were seen,â he hissed, showing them the headline: FLYING FORD ANGLIA MYSTIFIES MUGGLES. He began to read aloud. â âTwo Muggles in London, convinced they saw an old car flying over the Post Office tower ⌠at noon in Norfolk, Mrs Hetty Bayliss, while hanging out her washing ⌠Mr Angus Fleet, of Peebles, reported to policeâ ⌠six or seven Muggles in all. I believe your father works in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office?â he said, looking up at Ron and smiling still more nastily. âDear, dear ⌠his own son âŚâ Harry felt as though heâd just been walloped in the stomach by one of the mad treeâs larger branches. If anyone found out Mr Weasley had bewitched the car ⌠he hadnât thought of that âŚ
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets
â Chapter Five, The Whomping Willow
and if i said that tumblr thought they could get away with that update bc they know the majority of this website ignores the reblog option entirely compared to years ago, so they figured they could just BREAK the very foundation of how this website was built to operate and people would just shrug and be fine with that. please let this be a wake up call. our strong reaction to that change should start to reflect significantly in that ACTUAL reblog count under those notes we just fought for to stay untouched. fandoms and communities cannot thrive on likes alone. as much as tumblr has tried to turn this place in tiktok and twitter, it's not. posts need to circulate. art needs to be seen and shared. tumblr is not tumblr if this is not happening consistently because reblogs are the heartbeat of this website. please don't ever take it for granted. never give tumblr a reason to take away the thing that links us together and amplifies creativity. make reblogging a priority, PLEASE.
I love being a writer because nothing beats the emotional whiplash of going from âthis line could win awardsâ to âthis entire chapter reads like I typed it with my elbows.â The duality keeps me humble⌠and mildly unhinged.
I have been given the responsibility of a primary school library that was truly in a shocking state. It was run down to the point where the children couldnât access it and it was being ignored.
I spent a couple of weeks cleaning, organising and binning books that were either destroyed or mouldy beyond belief.
Now thatâs done, Iâd like to start stocking the library with books that I know the children are going to love.
This is where you come in: below Iâve posted a link to an Amazon wish list that has a selection of books and graphic novels that I know the children will adore. If you have a spare moment, please reblog and share this post, and if you have a spare few pounds, consider buying one of the books on my list?
It would help make reading more accessible to the children who truly need it.
Okay okay I keep thinking about oblivious reader who doesnât think Theo is flirting with her because ~clearly~ he doesnât even know her name. Meanwhile, Theo is confused because usually girls swoon when he calls them âBella/Cara/Amoreâ
careful, cara
the way i immediately started writing when I saw this request...ily.
Youâre rounding the corner outside the library with three books, an inky quill stuck behind your ear, and a half-eaten biscuit in your mouth when you slam directly into a wall.
Except itâs not a wall.
Itâs a very tall, very warm, very alive boy who smells faintly of old parchment and something expensive and intoxicating, like stormy weather. Your biscuit goes flying. Your books scatter. You just about lose your dignity.
âOh myâsorry!â you gasp, already dropping to the floor to collect your books and the crumbly remains of your breakfast.
A hand reaches out to help you. Long fingers. Calloused knuckles.
You follow the trail of his arm up to a loosened tie, an open collar, and the annoyingly perfect smirk of Theodore Nott.
âEasy there, Amore,â he says, voice like velvet and mock concern. âYou alright?â
You blink up at him. Heâs doing that thing. That leaning thing. The one girls whisper about in Potions.
âOh, uh, thanks. I didnât see you.â
You give him a polite smile and reach for your last book, brushing his hand in the process. You barely notice.
He does.
âCareful,â he murmurs, helping you up. âWouldnât want Hogwarts losing its brightest star.â
You snort before you can stop yourself. âPretty sure Hogwarts would survive.â
He laughs soft and surprised, then, with a practiced sort of charm, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You freeze. He smiles. Like a boy who knows exactly what heâs doing.
You⌠do not.
Because, obviously, heâs just being polite. Or flirty. Or⌠whatever he usually is. He calls everyone Amore, doesnât he? Or Bella. Or Cara. Itâs practically punctuation with him. Itâs probably because he doesnât know anyoneâs actual name. Especially not yours.
You smile back, half apologetic, half amused. âThanks again. See you.â
And just like that, you walk off. With jam on your sleeve. And crumbs in your hair. And not a single thought in your head that Theodore Nott was very much genuinely flirting with you.
Behind you, Theo watches you go, something almost betrayed flickering across his face.
He mutters under his breath, half to himself, "Merlin, what do I have to do, serenade her under her window?"
Then he smirks, slow and dangerous.
Maybe he will.
.ŕłŕż
You slip into your usual seat for Charms, dropping your bag with a soft thud. Youâre mid-rummage for a quill when you realize: Thereâs someone sliding into the seat beside you. Someone tall. Smirking. Smelling again unfairly good. You glance up.
Theodore Nott.
Again.
He drapes himself lazily across the chair, like he owns both it and the air youâre currently breathing.
"Morning, Amore," he says, low and easy.
You blink as he offers you a polite, confused smile. He must think youâre someone else. Maybe Isabella Hampton, sheâs much prettier and sits somewhere nearby, right?
"Hi," you say awkwardly. "Did you need something?"
Theo leans in just slightly, a casual tilt of his shoulder, a lazy curve of his mouth. You could swear the entire room tilts with him.
"Only your company," he says, sounding devastatingly sincere.
You laugh, a little panicked. "Ha â that's funny."
You busy yourself yanking out your textbook and drop a quill in the process. It rolls dramatically across the floor. Before you can even react, Theo is already crouching down, retrieving it with a little flourish like a knight presenting a sword.
"Your weapon, mia cara," he says, handing it back.
You snort, which is not the sound you meant to make. Merlin, this poor boy is so theatrical. He must flirt like this with everyone.
"Thanks," you say, cheeks warm again.
Theo watches you for a second longer than necessary, something fond, almost wonderstruck, lighting up behind his eyes.
Then he slouches back in his chair, spinning his wand between his fingers as if nothing unusual just happened.
You face forward, heart thudding, willing yourself to focus on Professor Flitwick's lecture.
You do not notice the way Theo leans slightly closer whenever you scribble a note.
You do not notice the way he half-smiles every time you chew the end of your quill.
You definitely do not notice the faint, hopeful look he sends you when Flitwick assigns paired spell practice for homework.
But you do notice, vaguely, that Theodore Nott is oddly...friendly. You chalk it up to him just being charming. Behind you, Pansy Parkinson drops her quill in shock, nudges Daphne Greengrass, and hisses, "Did Theo Nott just choose a partner?? Voluntarily???"
The Slytherin girls watch the scene unfold like itâs the third act of a very dramatic opera. Theo doesn't even notice.
Heâs too busy smiling, a real, soft, slightly crooked smile, as you mumble, "Alright, I guess weâre partners, then?"
Like youâve just handed him the bloody moon.
.ŕłŕż
You and Theo spend the next hour practicing Arresto Momentum for Flitwick's assignment.
Well... you practiced.
Theo mostly watches you with a look of soft, patient amusement, correcting your wand angles only when absolutely necessary.
(And each time he does, his fingers brush yours a little longer than they need to.)
You try not to think about it. You try very hard.
Finally, when you manage a perfect, object-slowing Arresto Momentum, you grin triumphantly. Theo grins too, wide and gorgeous, like youâve just invented magic itself.
"You're brilliant," he says, voice low, warm.
You tilt your head, embarrassed. "I'm sure you say that to all your partners."
"I don't," he says simply.
You laugh it off again, assuming he's just being polite. Sweet, sure. But probably just friendly. Right?
(You are so stupidly, gloriously wrong.)
Class ends, and you're packing your things when it happens.
You're struggling to jam your stupidly fat Charms book into your bag when Theo leans in, close enough that you catch that parchment-and-coffee smell again, and says:
"See you tomorrow, Y/N."
You freeze.
The book slips from your hands and thuds to the floor.
Theo straightens up, amused but obviously trying very hard to hide it, like he knows exactly what he just did.
You stare at him, heart thumping.
He knows your name.
He knew your name.
The whole time.
"Youâ" you start, stupidly.
He arches a brow, smirking, all lazy confidence. "What, Amore?"
You flush so hard youâre surprised you donât combust on the spot.
"IâI thought you didnâtâ"
"Didnât what?" he says, looking genuinely entertained now.
You open your mouth, realize you have absolutely no idea what youâre trying to say, and shut it again.
Theoâs smile softens.
"I've always known your name, you know," he says quietly, like itâs the most obvious thing in the world.
Before you can even begin to untangle that emotional catastrophe, he reaches down, picks up your fallen book and tucks it carefully into your bag for you.
Then, with another soft, almost secret smile, he brushes a hand against yours and strolls out of the classroom leaving you standing there, red-faced and stunned, clutching your bag like a lifeline.
Okay but do you understand the TREASURE TROVE of reading a fic you enjoy and then looking at the author's page and discovering they have written multiple just like it?! That is the ultimate score!
There's such recency bias in fandom. As an author you post something, get a few reactions, and then it goes off into the bin. As a reader you check the tags, see what's new, and move on. But a lot of old stuff is really good. It's just sitting there, gathering dust, waiting for someone to take a peek.
