hi I was wondering if you were still taking requests? Maybe we're Y/N faints while on her period. She's low on iron or has really bad cramps maybe?
Slytherin gang panic and go into protective mode. Can this be done with them all together instead of separate reactions like you have done in angry puff?
Hope that make sense!
What's Wrong With The Slytherins?
Slytherin Gang X Reader
-Period is different for each woman
Side Quest 5: Boxed Out
When you finally came to, the stark white ceiling of the hospital wing slowly blurred into focus, accompanied by the immediate sound of dull thuds and hushed, aggressive whispering.
Pansy was repeatedly hitting Theodore over the head with a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet. "I said shut up! You're breathing too loudly, idiot!"
"Ow! Pans, stop—oh, she’s awake!" Theodore called out, instantly cutting off the squabble.
In a fraction of a second, a sea of worried faces swarmed your bedside. The sudden movement made your head swim, and your face contorted into a sharp wince as you instinctively clenched your abdomen. A wave agonizing pain bloomed across your stomach, forcing a quiet groan from your lips.
Seeing you writhe, Draco didn't waste a single syllable. He turned on his heel and hurried away, returning a moment later with a highly exasperated Madam Pomfrey trailing behind him.
"I said only one visitor is allowed at a time!" the Matron scolded, adjusting her apron as she marched toward the crowd. "Do I need to report this blatant disregard for rules to your respective House Heads?"
Mattheo didn't even blink, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes with supreme indifference. "Take points, I don't care. Just check her already."
"Like I have told you all for the umpteenth time," Madam Pomfrey sighed flatly, shining a diagnostic light over you. "She is perfectly fine. She has severe pain due to her cramps, and she passed out because of low iron. There is absolutely nothing fundamentally wrong with her, and she simply needs rest—which, with all of you towering over her like a flock of gargoyles, she cannot get." She fixed the boys with a lethal glare.
"Okay, but what if she needs us? What if she passes out again the moment we leave?" Theodore frowned, his brow furrowing with genuine, stubborn anxiety.
"She is in the hospital wing, Mr. Nott," Pomfrey reminded him with agonizing slowness. "I am quite literally paid to ensure she doesn't."
Recognizing that the Matron was a second away from calling the Headmaster, Pansy stepped into action, using her elbows to shove the boys backward. "Just get out, guys. Go on, clear out."
"That includes you, Miss Parkinson," Madam Pomfrey added strictly.
The utter horror that flashed in Pansy’s eyes was almost comical. She stopped mid-shove, her jaw dropping. She looked at the sterile, quiet ward, then down at you looking pale and miserable under the sheets, and firmly crossed her arms.
"That's it. She's not staying here. We're taking care of her ourselves," Pansy declared, her pureblood stubbornness taking full control. She turned back to the boys with a sharp nod. "Go carry her, guys. Let's go."
"She will not be leaving this—"
"I apologize, Madam Pomfrey," Tom's voice cut through the brewing argument, smooth, velvet, and dripping with his usual polite charm. He stepped forward, offering the Matron a disarming smile. "But I think it would be best if she were left in our care. We will ensure she adheres strictly to her bed rest and dietary needs in the privacy of our quarters."
Everyone froze. Even the Slytherins, who were entirely accustomed to Tom's nature, stared at him in slight shock. Hearing Tom Riddle use his terrifyingly polite 'prefect voice' to negotiate a prison break from the hospital wing for a girl with period cramps was a historical event.
Before Madam Pomfrey could even process her bewilderment, Lorenzo cleared his throat, stepping right past her. He carefully slid his arms under your back and knees, lifting you out of the cot in one fluid, surprisingly gentle motion.
You had absolutely no complaints. Everything from your head to your toes ached in deep, and honestly, you knew this possessive crowd would never let you get a second of peace anyway if you didn't just let them take over. You let your head rest against Lorenzo’s shoulder with a tired sigh.
"Would you like to eat something, darling?" Lorenzo murmured softly, looking down at you as he carried you down the stone corridor.
You gave a small, weak nod.
"I'll bring a tray of food down to our common room," Blaise offered smoothly, already mapping out the quickest route to the kitchens.
"No..." you pouted, your voice small but stubborn. "I wanna eat at the Great Hall."
The boys all stopped walking, exchanging a series of weary, reluctant looks. Lorenzo took a step toward the heavy double doors of the Great Hall, and that was when you suddenly remembered a very crucial detail: you were currently being cradled like a toddler in front of the entire student body.
"Wait, let me walk!" you protested, beginning to struggle weakly against Lorenzo's chest.
"And have you pass out cold on the flagstones again? No way, absolutely not," Theodore huffed, walking right alongside you to ensure you didn't try to dive out of Lorenzo's arms.
"I am not going into the Great Hall whilst being carried," you hissed, glaring at them with all the fierce dignity you could muster.
Tom let out a soft, amused chuckle. He stepped forward, placing a firm, grounding hand on Lorenzo's shoulder. "Put her down, Berkshire."
Lorenzo reluctantly complied, carefully lowering your feet to the floor. The second your boots hit the ground, a wave of nausea hit you, and a sharp wince crossed your face as your lower back ached in heavy, painful folds. You slumped slightly, unable to stand up fully straight.
"Stubborn girl," Tom murmured. Without a hint of hesitation, he wrapped a strong, unyielding arm around your waist, pulling your side firmly against his hip to bear the majority of your weight. With his support holding you steady, he anchored you as he helped you walk through the doors and into the Great Hall.
The second you reached the Slytherin table, Draco and Pansy practically sprinted toward the buffet platters. They returned a minute later, piling your plate high with an absurd, mountain-sized assortment of spinach, lean beef, dark chocolate, and every single high-iron food item available on the tables.
"That looks weird," Theodore chimed in, leaning over your shoulder and poking a stray piece of steak with his fork. "Can I taste a bit of it?"
"I'll shove your face directly into your own plate if you keep trying to eat her food, Nott," Mattheo glared, his voice dropping into a dark, venomous warning that made Theodore instantly pull his hand back.
You ate slowly, your stomach turning uncomfortably. Not even halfway through the plate, you sighed and pushed it away. Almost instantly, the human garbage disposal known as Theodore Nott eagerly leaned over and ate everything left on the plate in a matter of seconds, earning a look of profound disgust from Draco.
Once dinner was cut short, the entire group formed a tight, impenetrable perimeter around you, escorting you safely down into the Slytherin dungeons. Back in the cozy warmth of the dorms, Lorenzo sat you down and gave your aching lower back a remarkably skilled, relaxing massage, while Pansy brought over warm damp cloths, cleaned you up, and tucked you into a nest of heated blankets with a fresh hot water bottle.
By your second day, despite the fact that you woke up feeling significantly better, the overprotective crowd still tailed you like a personal royal guard. They were completely relentless, turning the entire castle into a no-fly zone around you.
During Charms, the professor calls for you. "Y/N, can you demonstrate to me the—"
"No, she cannot," Tom interjected smoothly from the seat beside you, not even looking up from his parchment. The sheer, icy authority in his voice made Professor Flitwick visibly flinch at the front of the classroom.
The Professor cleared his throat nervously, adjusting his spectacles. "U-uhm, quite alright! Anyone else care to demonstrate the banishing charm?"
Later that afternoon, the group accompanied you to Care of Magical Creatures. The class was crowded, and Professor Kettleburn, scanning the students, pointed a blunt finger directly at you. "You there! Hufflepuff girl, tell the class—"
"Who the hell do you think you're talking to?" Mattheo spit out, stepping directly in front of you. His dark eyes narrowed into a dangerous, lethal squint that made Professor Kettleburn stop mid-sentence, thoroughly shocked by the student's sheer audacity.
"And she has a name. Use it," Draco added, his voice dripping with cold, aristocratic disdain as he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Mattheo, completely shielding you from the professor's gaze. Kettleburn blinked, completely flabbergasted, but wisely chose to call on a terrified Gryffindor instead.
Between classes, you were walking down the corridor when a stressed-looking Ravenclaw girl started jogging toward you. "Y/N, can you help me with the Ancient Runes translation? I'm completely stuck on—"
The girl stopped dead in her tracks, the words dying in her throat. Theodore and Lorenzo had seamlessly stepped out in front of you, both of them fixing the poor girl with identical, unblinking, terrifying glares.
"N-nevermind! I can handle it myself!" she squeaked, spinning on her heel and practically sprinting in the opposite direction.
When lunchtime rolled around, a brave Hufflepuff boy actually managed to sit across from you at the table before the boys could block it off. He smiled, pointing at your dessert. "Ohh, what are you eating? It looks really—"
A heavy silver plate slammed onto the table right beside him with a deafening ring. Blaise smoothly slid into the seat directly to your left, while Pansy aggressively took the seat to your right, effectively boxing you in. Blaise slowly turned his dark eyes to the Hufflepuff, raising a single, smooth eyebrow, while Pansy twirled her wand between her fingers with a wicked smile.
The guy didn't say another word, grabbing his goblet and leaving the table without looking back.
"Guys..." you sighed, hiding your burning face in your hands. "I think you're doing entirely too much. People are terrified to look at me."
"You're still fragile, love. We're just making sure you don't overwork yourself," Theodore smiled brightly, his previous terrifying glare completely vanishing into a warm, boyish grin as he handed you a fresh goblet of pumpkin juice.
"And ensuring that you are eating properly. We can't have your iron dropping again," Blaise nodded smoothly, cutting up a piece of chicken on your plate with meticulous care.
By the third day, you were profoundly thankful that your cycle was on its very last day. The absolute lockdown the Slytherins had placed on your social life was impenetrable; literally no one other than your specific group of boys and Pansy had come within a five-foot radius of you for the entire week.
Masterlist
Another one of those I had no idea how to write I'm sorry :(
I didnt like how it turned out but it wasn't super bad I guess
My period usually lasts for 3 days and my cramps is only intolerable on the first day i get used to it on 2nd and third (usually) so I put this down for my usual cycle
even after your period they didnt leave you alone until they made sure youre good so you were boxes out for a week
I was gonna add a moment about the usual cravings and mood swings that comes with periods but I didnt feel like adding them as i had no idea how to
I just dont see puffy getting mad at them even if shes on her period
-Y/N L/N accidentally gets invited in a group chat
Chapter 16: Hidden
You lift your head, your eyes darting frantically around the room. Where can you hide?
There are no dark alcoves here, no tapestries to duck behind—just cold stone and rows of wooden stalls. You scramble forward, your boots clicking too loudly on the wet floor, but the sudden, heavy rattle of the main door handle makes you freeze.
Your head snaps toward the entrance. The heavy oak door swings wide, and you lock eyes with Pansy Parkinson.
Pansy’s eyes widen in absolute horror as she looks past you, taking in the gaping, yawning abyss of the open chamber entrance. Her face goes stark white. Acting on pure, desperate instinct, she sharply turns back toward the corridor, using her body to block the doorway.
"I'm so sorry, but I desperately need to use the girls' room!" she calls out, her voice high and forced. "Could you excuse me for just a second?"
She slams the door shut without waiting for a response, lunges forward, and violently yanks you into the nearest stall. She throws her palm over your mouth, clamping down hard to stifle your breathing.
But the wizards in the corridor don't care about her pleading. The heavy door is kicked off its hinges with a deafening BANG.
"Parkinson, what is the meaning of this?!" a man’s booming, aristocratic voice echoes off the tiled walls.
Pansy’s hand trembles against your lips. She furrows her brows, pressing a single finger to her own mouth, desperately begging you to remain silent. You nod frantically, your eyes pricking with hot, terrified tears as your own hands fly up to hold your breath. Slowly, carefully, Pansy steps out of the stall, letting the door click shut to hide you.
She steps into the main room, her voice small and trembling. "Sir Dolohov—"
A vicious, echoing CRACK rings through the bathroom. A slap.
"Your utter incompetence could have costed us everything!" Dolohov roars, his footsteps pacing the stone floor. "And you dared try to hide it from us?!"
"It wasn't me! I—I tried to close it!" Pansy shrieks, her voice cracking with terror. "That’s why I didn't want to let you in, I—"
"This is a massive liability!" another harsh voice snarls. "What would you have done if a teacher or a mudblood had found it first?!"
"No one comes in here! I—I checked the stalls before you even arrived! I was just about to seal it, I swear—"
"CRUCIO!"
The air in the room violently supercharges with dark magic. Pansy’s screams instantly shatter the silence—a horrific, agonizing sound that rips through the small bathroom. Inside the stall, you slam your back against the wood, covering your mouth so hard your teeth dig into your skin, crying silently as you try to suffocate your sobs.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she wails through the torture.
"You are so entirely incompetent! You and your little group of sycophants!" Dolohov spits, the malice dripping from his words. "You all showed such promise. The Dark Lord spoke grandeurs of your little circle, believing you were clever enough to follow his children and secure this castle from the inside!"
"But look at you now," the second wizard scoffs, and you can hear a heavy boot ruthlessly kicking Pansy's writhing body. "This is exactly what happens when we let children play at being soldiers. You weaken, you lose your nerve, and you compromise our entire operation! The whole Slytherin house is in a pathetic decline because you lot have grown soft!"
Pansy’s screams are dying down now, but it isn't because the torture has stopped. It’s because her throat is completely raw; she has completely run out of voice.
"All because of that useless Hufflepuff," Dolohov scoffs, his tone dripping with pure disgust.
Inside the stall, you freeze. The tears stream down your face, cold and biting. Had they been suffering this entire time because of you?
"That young Lord Tom has been demanding more and more," the wizard continues, his voice pacing closer to your stall. "And it’s because of you lot that he has completely ruined himself! He has stopped eating, stopped sleeping, destroying his own magic just because of his people. He was meant to be the Dark Lord’s perfect, pristine vessel—and now he is failing!"
Suddenly, the suffocating pressure of the Unforgivable Curse stops. Pansy lets out a weak, disgusting, rattling sob that makes everything inside you break.
"Check the stalls before we leave," Dolohov commands coldly. "This stupid girl might be too daft to have even done that correctly."
Panic violently cuts through your grief. With a horribly trembling hand, you slide your wand from your sleeve and whisper the only spell that can save you: "Invisibilio."
To your absolute shock, the Disillusionment charm washes over you perfectly, melting your clothes and skin into the texture of the wall behind you just as a heavy leather boot kicks your stall door wide open.
Through the blurred camouflage of the spell, you look down. Pansy is lying on the wet stone floor, barely conscious. As the wizard glares into the seemingly empty stall, Pansy’s trembling, bruised fingers slightly reach out in your direction—a silent, final act to shield your location. You hold your breath, staying as perfectly still as a statue.
"Empty," the wizard grunts, slamming the stall door shut. "Let's go. Bring the girl."
With a loud thud, they jump into the abyss, the air rushes out of the room. They vanish, dragging Pansy's broken body into the dark with them, leaving you entirely alone in the freezing, ruined bathroom.
You have no idea how long you sit there, completely paralyzed. Your entire body shakes violently, a hard, physical shudder that rattles your bones as the tears pour down your face in hot, breathless streams. Your hands remain clamped over your mouth, the skin white from the pressure as you desperately try to choke back the jagged, suffocating sobs tearing at your chest.
The silence of the ruined bathroom is deafening, heavy with the lingering, static scent of dark magic and the terrifying echo of Pansy’s screams. You feel utterly hollowed out, crushed under the agonizing weight of the truth: it was all because of you. Tom, Pansy, the Slytherins—they were being broken, tortured, and ruined by the Dark Lord because of you.
“YN! Where are you?!”
The heavy oak door is violently thrown open, slamming against the stone wall with a resounding crash.
Athena and Hermione burst into the room, their frantic footsteps splashing through the water on the floor. They find you huddled in the corner of the open stall, still partially shimmering from the fading effects of the Disillusionment charm, curled tightly into a small, helpless ball.
The moment Athena's hands touch your shoulders, the dam inside you shatters completely.
You throw yourself into her arms, burying your face into her robes, and finally let out the heavy, agonizing sobs you had been forcing down. The sound is raw and heartbroken, echoing loudly off the cold, tiled walls of the empty bathroom. Athena holds you tightly, rocking you back and forth, while Hermione drops to her knees beside you, her face pale with worry as she draws her wand to cast a protective perimeter. You are safe for now, but the horror of what you just witnessed changes everything.
hi, i don’t know if anyone else told you, but on the What's Wrong With The Slytherin? master list, chapter 15 brings you back to the master list instead of the actual chapter. love ya😋🫶
oopsies thank you so much for pointing it out ill fix it right away! <3
-Y/N L/N accidentally gets invited in a group chat
Chapter 15: Bathroom escapades
By the time dinner rolled around, the Great Hall was absolutely packed. Despite the lingering hostility directed toward Hufflepuff from the other houses, the badger table continued to bustle with lively conversation—easily remaining the loudest, most cheerful group in the hall.
Mattheo was sitting right there with you, Cedric, and Athena, completely abandoning the Slytherin table across the room.
None of your housemates questioned his presence anymore. Occasionally, you would catch a fleeting glance from the other Slytherins across the Hall; their expressions told you everything you needed to know. They felt bloody awful about icing you out, but they simply weren't allowed to speak to either of you. Well, everyone except Tom, of course, who wore his usual mask of chilling indifference.
Over the last few days, the Hufflepuffs had grown fiercely protective of Mattheo, who now spent the vast majority of his free time tucked away in your common room or eating at your table, flatly refusing to look at his own house.
"Oh, right—Cap, are we doing Quidditch practice tonight?" Maxine, one of the beaters for your house team, called down the table to Cedric.
"Ah, that's right. There’s a match coming up soon, isn't there?" Mattheo noted, turning to look at Cedric beside him.
"Yeah, and we’ve got a practice match against Gryffindor at the weekend," Cedric nodded, picking on some roast potatoes in his plate.
"You play on the team, don't you?" Mattheo asked, turning a warm smile in your direction.
"Used to," you murmur with a small smile.
"YN used to be our star Seeker!" Athena beamed proudly across the table. "Until a certain someone went and stole her position." She pointed her fork accusingly at Cedric.
"Come on, love, I didn't steal her job!" Cedric defended himself, chuckling.
"Stop being so dramatic, Athena. Ced is brilliant at his job—he completely bested me during the tryouts, fair and square," you say.
"I’ve been trying to recruit her for another position," Cedric added, Athena nudging your shoulder. "She’s bloody brilliant on a broom, but she absolutely detests the violence of the Bludgers."
"Blame Anthony for me being terrified of Bludgers," you say, rolling your eyes playfully down the table. "He nearly killed me with that thing."
Anthony, another Beater on the team, choked on his pumpkin juice at the sound of his name. "Not my fault you couldn't dodge to save your life, despite being on the team for ages!"
"Right, that's it. I'm going to hex you into next week," Athena hissed playfully, grabbing her wand and making a move to scramble across the table to get to him.
Anthony laughed loudly, raising his arms to shield himself as the surrounding Hufflepuffs cheered Athena on.
Mattheo watched the chaos, a smirk playing on his lips before he leaned closer to you. "You reckon you've got Draco beat on a broom?"
"Oh, no. No chance," you laugh, shaking your head. "I'm completely rusty. Haven't flown properly in ages. Plus, the last time I tried flying... well, it didn't exactly end well, did it?"
"What about your Flying lessons, then?" Mattheo asked, his brow furrowing slightly in concern.
"Madam Hooch knows exactly what I'm capable of," you assure him quietly. "Since the culprit from the incident hasn't been caught yet, she's asked Cedric to help me practice in private where it's safe. She's completely excused me from the high-altitude lessons to ensure nothing happens to me."
"She’s been flying perfectly fine, Mattheo," Cedric smiles, offering you an encouraging wink. "Still easily one of the best on a broom in Hufflepuff."
"Keep praising me, Ced, I still won't join." you say, rolling your eyes playfully as you push yourself up from the bench. "I’ll be right back, I’ve just got to use the girls' room."
The moment you step away from the warmth of the Hufflepuff table, you can feel a heavy pair of eyes burning into your back. You purposefully steer yourself toward a more secluded corridor, choosing a quieter bathroom further down the hall. You have a strong inkling as to who is following you; you’ve felt that exact gaze all through dinner. You assume it’s Pansy or Lorenzo, since they’ve been practically vibrating with a desperate need to speak with you all week.
It doesn't take long for the bustling noise of the Great Hall to fade. The stone corridor is completely empty when a sudden, firm grip suddenly hooks around your waist, pulling you forcefully into a dark, recessed alcove against the stone wall.
"Ah!" you let out a soft groan at the sudden impact. "What the bloody—"
The words die in your throat. You freeze as a pair of desperate arms wrap tightly around your middle, and a heavy head buries itself directly into the crook of your neck.
It isn't Pansy. And it certainly isn't Lorenzo.
"Tom?" you breathe, utterly stunned. This is completely out of character for him. He is supposed to be the indifferent one. The cold one. The untouchable leader. Yet right now...
"Please. Stay away from Mattheo," you hear him mumble against your skin. You can hear it clearly in his voice now—the sheer, agonizing pain. He sounds like a man who is a single step away from completely shattering.
Slowly, instinctively, you wrap your arms back around his shoulders. "What on earth is going on...?"
"Just... give me a week. Stay away from him for a week. Please," he begs, his knuckles turning white as his hands shake violently against the wool of your school jumper.
"Tom. Tell me what’s happening. Please, you can talk to me."
Tom lifts his head slowly. For a second, you expect to see tears or a breakdown on his face, but his terrifying mask of indifference is already firmly back in place. His expression is completely blank.
"Are you and Mattheo together?" he demands quietly.
"You lot haven't spoken a single word to either of us for days," you counter, bitterness leaking into your tone, "and now you suddenly care?"
For a fraction of a second, his flawless composure cracks. A flicker of something raw passes through his dark eyes—is it worry? Absolute terror? You can't quite tell, because it vanishes just as quickly as it appeared.
"Yes," he says, his voice dangerously low. "Because now it matters. It is life or death."
You can practically feel the sheer desperation radiating off him. He needs an answer.
"No," you tell him honestly. "We're not."
Tom lets out a long, shuddering breath. "Good. I don't want you to isolate him—don't leave him entirely, he needs you. But please, do not go around alone with him. You must ensure you are never seen alone together. But neither of you must be alone either. Especially you." Tom reaches up, his palm cupping your cheek. "It is for both of your safety."
Your heart drops straight into your stomach.
Oh.
The dark, looming threat is back to haunt you. Voldemort is watching. He knows you're hanging around the Riddle brothers, and he wants to eliminate the distraction.
Looking deeply into Tom's eyes, you see the truth. He is completely terrified, but beneath the fear is a fierce, unbreakable determination. He is not going to let either you or his brother get hurt, no matter the cost to himself.
You offer him a soft, gentle smile. "I trust you," you whisper, placing your hand directly over his and leaning into his touch. "I know you'll tell us everything when the time is right."
Tom opens his mouth to speak, but the words fail him. He closes it again, completely unsure of what to say, and for a long, breathless moment, you simply stare at each other in the dim torchlight.
And then, to your absolute shock, he leans down.
A pair of lips finds yours. Tom kisses you, desperate and unyielding, but the physical reality of it breaks your heart. His lips are dry and severely cracked, completely different from the perfect, untouchable boy you used to watch from across the room. He is burning with a low, unhealthy fever.
As you lose yourself in him, closing your eyes and falling deeper into the kiss, the terrifying extent of his condition becomes painfully clear. The hand cupping your face is icy cold, his fingers noticeably thinner, the bone structure sharp and prominent against your skin. As your hands slide up to his chest, you can feel his collarbones jutting out sharply beneath his robes, and his heart is hammering a frantic, erratic rhythm like a trapped bird. He is starving himself, running on nothing but sheer adrenaline and dark stress.
When he finally pulled away, your eyes shot open, your heart hammering against your ribs.
"Tom, you're sick," you whisper breathlessly, immediately reaching out to place your hand against his forehead, feeling the unnatural heat radiating from his skin.
He quickly flinches back, pushing your hand away as he violently forces his icy composure back into place. He fixes his collar, smoothing down his robes with trembling fingers.
"I..." he starts, his voice dropping into a stiff, cold octave. He turns his back to you completely. "I am perfectly fine. I expect you to do exactly as I said."
Without another word, he walks away, his cloak billowing behind him as he disappears around the corner, leaving you standing alone in the dim alcove. Slowly, you raise your fingers to your lips, tracing the lingering warmth of the kiss, a faint, bittersweet smile spreading across your face.
You finally turn and make your way down the corridor into the girls' bathroom, still entirely lost in the memory of his touch.
But the moment you push the heavy door open, the romantic daydream shatters into absolute bewilderment.
The room is freezing, and the sound of rushing, echoing water fills the air. Instead of the usual rows of sinks, the entire central stone island has vanished. One of the copper taps, carved with a tiny, faint scratching of a serpent, is glowing with a dull, eerie light. The massive pillar of sinks has split completely apart and sunken straight into the floor, leaving a gaping, colossal stone pipe exposed in the center of the room—a dark, bottomless abyss leading directly into the subterranean depths of the castle.
You had found a secret entrance that was wide open.
Previous | Masterlist | Next
updates gonna come slow for a bit finals coming havent had time for creativity and im dealing with personal problems too im sorry ill try to upload something soon
I'm gonna be closing the taglist for now too ill add yall when im back if you comment on masterlist
again im sorry ill try mot take too long of a break like what i did back then i just havent had time
Puffy and Pansy doing the slytherin boys makeup? As a little side quest??
What's Wrong With The Slytherins?
Slytherin Gang X Reader
-Its fairy god mother time
Side Quest 4: Bibbity Bobbity Boo
Blaise Zabini & Draco Malfoy
You sat at Pansy's bed while she browsed through the makeup she had thrown across the covers.
"What about this color?" she asked, holding up a shimmering shadow.
"I don't think the color matches my dress," you replied, leaning back on your hands.
Without a knock, the door swung wide open.
"Hey, Pans, Draco is looking for hi—" Blaise stopped dead in his tracks, turning his gaze to take in the absolute sea of cosmetics scattered everywhere.
Pansy beamed instantly, springing up and pulling Blaise right into her vacated seat. "Great job! We can practice on you."
He blinked, looking thoroughly trapped. "Can we not?"
Pansy immediately pointed her wand directly at his neck, her eyes narrowing playfully. "Say no and I'll Stupefy you in place."
You giggled, stepping right in front of Blaise and looking down at him. "You're so handsome," you said with a bright smile.
At your words, Blaise blushed lightly, his resistance completely evaporating as a familiar, smooth smirk took its place.
"More handsome than me?"
You turned toward the door to find Draco standing there, crossing his arms. He glared at Blaise before looking at you. "Why are you flirting with the girls? I just asked you to get my book."
Pansy smirked over at you, and the two of you shared a perfectly synchronized, mischievous nod.
You sauntered smoothly toward Draco, watching a satisfied smile break across his face. He instinctively reached out to hold you the second you leaned into him. "Well, hello to you too, love," he murmured softly.
"Don't fall for it!" Blaise warned loudly from the chair.
But it was already too late. Pansy quickly clamped a hand over Blaise's mouth to silence him while you gently but firmly pulled Draco backward, guiding him right into another seat.
You pulled away the moment his boots hit the floor. Draco blinked, suddenly realizing what had just happened as he looked over at the cosmetics on the bed, and then at a muffled Blaise.
"Oh, for the love of Merlin... don't you dare."
"Come on, Drayyyy, we need to practice. The ball is coming around soon," you pouted, turning back to sift through the colorful palettes on the bed.
"Absolutely not! You have Blaise, you don't need me too. I refuse to be painted!"
"Oh, shut up, Draco," Pansy rolled her eyes, walking over to join you. She scanned the pile before pulling out a specific sleek case. "Ooh, this one suits Draco." She shows it to you.
"Draco is like a cute doll, he'd be easier to do," you teased, leaning down to press a quick, sweet kiss to his cheek. "You'll let us, right?" you pleaded, melting him with your best puppy-dog eyes.
Draco’s defensive bravado completely deflated. He slumped back into the chair, utterly defeated and offering no further resistance. Satisfied, you turned back to Blaise and skipped right over to him.
Blaise let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Now, darling, thats's just not fair. You mischievous fox."
"Oh, you like it," you smiled, holding out a damp beauty blender.
Seeing his friend laugh, Draco went right back to struggling against his invisible constraints. "How come I have to work with you!" he yelled at Pansy.
"Keep screaming and I'll feed you my blender and make you look like a clown," Pansy hissed, shaking a powder brush at him menacingly.
"Now, darling," Blaise purred, his dark eyes crinkling with effortless charm as he looked up at you, completely ignoring Draco's whining. "You look absolutely stunning today. Why waste your precious time painting my face when we could just sit here and admire yours?"
"Nice try, Zabini," you laughed, gently grabbing his forearm and pulling him toward the edge of the bed to get a better angle. "Sit."
With a soft sigh, Blaise fully resigned himself to his fate. As you began meticulously applying the makeup to his face, he stayed perfectly still. His dark eyes never left your focused expression, watching the subtle changes in your face with every brushstroke, a fond smile gracing his lips the entire time.
"Well?" Draco demanded, watching you blend Blaise's makeup with a look of pure, unadulterated disgust. "Are you satisfied? Can we go now?"
"Haven't even started with you," Pansy glared, firmly pushing Draco back down by his shoulders when he tried to sit up.
Draco gripped the armrests tightly, glaring daggers at Pansy through the vanity mirror. "If you make me look ridiculous, Parkinson, I will ensure your father hears about this."
"Oh, please. I'm fixing your pasty complexion, be grateful," Pansy rolled her eyes, immediately going to work with a translucent powder and a heavy hand of contour to sharpen his already striking jawline.
Draco complained the entire time. He scoffed at the soft texture of the brushes, muttered under his breath about the "girly nonsense," and wrinkled his nose in deep offense when Pansy sprayed him with a rose-scented setting mist.
But the exact second Pansy stepped away to grab a different product from the bed, leaving you to step into her place, his entire demeanor completely shifted.
You leaned over him, holding a small brow gel to brush a few stray blonde hairs into place. As your face got close to his, Draco's loud protests instantly died out, cutting off mid-sentence. The room felt suddenly, intensely quiet. His stormy gray eyes locked onto yours, tracing the line of your jaw and the slight, knowing smirk on your lips. He didn't move a single muscle, holding his breath as your warm fingers gently brushed against his forehead, his knuckles turning completely white from how hard he was gripping the chair.
"There," you whispered softly, reaching out to tap the tip of his nose playfully. "All done."
"This is just not fair. They're all tamed crups around you," Pansy whined from behind you, glaring down at Draco, who was still staring up at you in a complete daze with a faint pink blush creeping up his cheeks.
Draco blinked, suddenly breaking out of his trance. He cleared his throat quickly, turning his head sharply toward the mirror to hide the flush warming his neck. He inspected his reflection, running a hand through his perfectly styled platinum hair to regain his composure. Letting out a sharp, aristocratic sniff, he tried to look bored, though he couldn't entirely hide the subtle satisfaction in his eyes.
"Hmph. Passable, I suppose," Draco muttered, though he made absolutely no move to wipe any of it off.
Beside him, Blaise was already admiring himself in a hand mirror, thoroughly pleased with his flawless, glowing skin.
"Incredible," Blaise winked at you in the reflection, flashing a brilliant smile. "We look like royalty. I think we should wear this to the Great Hall tonight just to watch everyone's jaw drop."
Theodore Nott & Lorenzo Berkshire & Mattheo Riddle
It was girl’s night and you were in Pansy’s room tonight.
"Oh, we should've tried doing each other's makeup!!!" Pansy flopped onto her bed with a dramatic pout, staring up at the canopy. "I rarely see you with any."
"We can still," you offered, sitting cross-legged at the foot of the mattress.
"And waste the face masks we just put on? No, thank you."
Right on cue, a loud, chaotic crashing sound echoed from right outside the corridor. You and Pansy exchanged a knowing, weary look before stepping out to check the commotion.
Standing in the hallway were Theodore, Lorenzo, and Mattheo. Mattheo looked entirely done with his life, holding the other two boys firmly by their collars. Theodore and Lorenzo were both clutching an armful of pillows and blankets, wearing identical pouts.
"Uh... hello?" you blinked.
"I knew it! She was sleeping here! I wanna joinnnn!" Theodore whined, struggling uselessly against Mattheo's grip.
Mattheo let out a heavy sigh, his dark eyes meeting yours. "So this is why Tom told me to watch you two. They were trying to break down the door."
"Sorry guys, we're havi—" You were about to politely tell them it was girl's night, but Pansy cut you right off, her eyes lighting up with sudden inspiration.
"Okay! Welcome! Come in, guys, you can sleep over tonight!" Pansy forcefully snatched Theodore and Lorenzo away from Mattheo, shoving them into her room. "Y/N, can you bring Mattheo in too?"
Confused, you blinked, but walked over to Mattheo anyway. He tilted his head, his brow furrowing in deep suspicion, but you just shrugged back at him.
The moment you and Mattheo stepped across the threshold, Pansy whipped out her wand. With a sharp flick, she threw a sealing spell over the door, locking it tight. Her welcoming expression instantly flipped into something purely mischievous. With another wave of her wand, a dozen luxury bags of makeup came flying out of her closet, scattering across the bed.
"Oh!" you smiled, getting excited.
"Hell no." Mattheo spun around instantly, grabbing the door handle, but it wouldn't budge. "Pansy, open this door right now!"
"Y/N, sit him down!" Pansy commanded.
Laughing, you grabbed Mattheo by the arm, smiling up at him with pure excitement. He looked down at you, then at the massive sea of cosmetics on the bed. Realizing he was utterly powerless against your happiness, he let out a defeated sigh and allowed you to guide him over to a seat.
"Stay here, okay?" you smiled. He gave a quiet nod, a soft, rare smile breaking through his grumpy exterior.
You skipped over to Theodore and Lorenzo. Theo was looking around the room in absolute panic, while Enzo was already casually browsing through the lipsticks.
"Theodore, sit down!" Pansy glared, gesturing to a vanity chair.
Like a scared pup, Theo immediately sank into the seat Pansy provided. Trembling slightly, he looked up at you with a trembling pout, his big eyes pleading for mercy while Pansy readied her blending sponges and brushes.
"Y/N, please, I'm just a bystander! Don't let her put that sparkling pink dust on my face!"
Mattheo burst out laughing from his seat, leaning back comfortably. "Shut up Nott. You’re the one who wanted a sleepover so badly. Wear the pink dust like a man."
Meanwhile, Lorenzo was completely unbothered, picking up various shadow palettes and expertly swatching them along his forearm to check the pigment.
You giggled at Theo's panic, leaning in close to calm him down. As your face neared his, his cheeks instantly flushed a bright, vibrant red, and he went completely quiet, totally starstruck.
Mattheo suddenly stood up from his chair. With a sharp frown on his face, he strode right over, grabbed you gently by the waist, and pulled you firmly away from Theo's personal space. You blinked up at him, realizing he was getting fiercely protective. Softening, you reached up and tapped his cheek playfully, trying to calm him down. Mattheo caught your hand, his features softening just a fraction, but his deep frown remained stubbornly in place as he stepped back, crossing his arms and watching you and Pansy work.
Pansy took advantage of his still compliance. She aggressively dipped a fluffy brush into the bright pink palette, deliberately dusting a generous, rosy mountain of blush right onto the tip of Theo's nose, before patting a thick layer of glitter over his eyelids. Theo complained loudly to save face, but he stayed absolutely, perfectly still so you wouldn't poke his eye out.
While Pansy was busy transforming Theodore, you turned to Lorenzo with a smile. "What are you doing?"
"Picking my color," Lorenzo replied smoothly, handing you a specific foundation and a sleek contour kit. "Could you use these? I want you to do my makeup. I want to look as gorgeous as you tonight." He flashed you a dazzling smile.
Lorenzo didn't struggle at all. Instead, he sat in his chair willingly, tilting his jaw perfectly under the light so you could get the best angle.
"Why can't you be as behaved as him?!" Pansy growled at Theo, forcefully dampening a beauty blender onto his forehead.
As you began blending the contour along Lorenzo's cheekbones, he suddenly gasped. He reached out, gently but firmly snatching a thick powder brush right out of Pansy's tray, and snapped, "Princess, no, use the angled brush for my jawline. We want it sharp."
Mattheo rolled his eyes hard from the bedpost. "Look at that, the Disney princess over there knows more about paint than you guys do. Honestly, Nott, look at yourself in the mirror. You look like a bloody Care Bear."
After finishing up with Theodore, Mattheo was practically cackling, leaning against the bedpost as he wiped a tear from his eye.
But the exact second Pansy turned the makeup brushes toward him, his smile instantly vanished.
"Come on, Riddle! It's your turn!" Pansy cheered, stepping toward him.
"Don't come close," Mattheo warned, his voice dropping an octave as he literally slapped her hand away when she tried to brandish a concealer wand near his face.
However, when you stepped up to him, holding a dark, smokey eyeshadow palette, his entire demeanor completely shifted. The defensive walls came crumbling down. He sat down properly, gently wrapping his hands around your waist to pull you right between his knees. His fingers lightly caught your wrist, stopping the brush for just a fraction of a second.
"Only you, love," he murmured in that low, raspy voice meant only for your ears.
Pansy glared daggers at Mattheo, utterly offended by the blatant favoritism. Mattheo just looked over your shoulder and childishly stuck his tongue out at her. With a huff, Pansy marched over to Lorenzo to finish up the details of the job you had left unattended.
Pansy grabbed a high-end lip gloss, aggressively perfecting Lorenzo's look while whispering gossip to him about Draco's latest quidditch tantrum. Lorenzo just nodded along elegantly, perfectly content to be pampered by anyone as long as he looked pretty.
With the room buzzing around you, Mattheo watched you with an intense, unblinking gaze. He stayed completely silent, his dark eyes tracking your lips the entire time your face was just inches from his, your breathing shallow as you meticulously smudged dark, messy eyeliner and heavy shadows around his eyes. He didn't move a single muscle, entirely captivated by your touch.
The moment you finished, a satisfied smirk spread across Mattheo's face. He leaned forward to pull you closer into his lap—only for Theodore to suddenly dive in from nowhere.
Theo cleanly pulled you away from Mattheo's grip, wrapping his own arms tightly around your waist from behind and resting his chin heavily on your shoulder.
"Nope!" Theodore sang out triumphantly, sticking his tongue out at Mattheo.
Mattheo’s smirk instantly turned into a deadly glare. "Give her back, Cheer Bear."
Before a full-blown fistfight could break out on Pansy's rug, Lorenzo stood up, admiring his flawless complexion in the mirror from every single angle.
"Bloody good job, both of you! Quick, give me the setting spray!" Lorenzo broke the tension completely, stepping between the boys. He smoothly grabbed your hand, pulling you out of Theo's tight embrace and twirling you around the room with a dramatic flourish. "You did a jolly good job, princess. I look immaculate."
Theo huffed, frantically trying to look tough and intimidating while sporting a heavily blushed, glittering pink nose, occasionally throwing a childish glare at Mattheo.
Meanwhile, Mattheo just sat back in his chair, looking like a devastatingly handsome gothic prince, a dark, victorious smirk pulling at his lips because he knew he had just gotten your completely undivided attention during the fiasco unlike the other two who was passed around.
Tom Riddle
You were in your room quietly doing your homework while Tom was reading a leather-bound textbook on your bed. The room was peaceful, save for the scratching of your quill and the rhythmic turning of his pages.
Stuck on a particularly difficult passage, you turned around. "Tommy, can you help with this?"
Tom put his book down without a moment's hesitation, sliding off the mattress to look over your paper. He leaned down, his deep voice smooth and patient as he carefully explained the concept and guided you through the answer. Once you understood, he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze and went back to your bed, picking his book right back up.
That was exactly when Pansy came crashing in without a knock.
"Y/N! Oh my Merlin, look! I got the limited edition set from sheglam!" she squealed, dramatically settling the massive, sleek set of cosmetics right onto your study table.
"Oh! That color is pretty!" you gasped, completely abandoning your quill.
"Right?! And look at this one—it matches your eyes amazingly!" Pansy was practically vibrating with excitement as she started showing off the pristine luxury set.
Suddenly, a sharp, pointed throat-clearing cut through the air, making you both stop your swooning instantly.
Tom sat on the edge of the bed, his textbook closed on his lap and a single, highly judgmental eyebrow raised. "Aren't you supposed to be finishing your homework so we can go out?" he asked, his dark eyes shifting to glare directly at Pansy.
Pansy visibly shrank, her excitement evaporating as she looked between the two of you. "I... I didn't know you were here. Hello, Tom," she muttered carefully.
Sensing the sudden spike in tension, you quickly skipped over to the bed and wrapped your arms tightly around his arm, leaning against him. "Tommy, the makeup is so pretty," you pouted.
Tom looked down at you, his harsh expression softening in a split second. "That's great, love. I shall get you a set too," he murmured, his voice dropping into a quiet, exclusive tone. "But you don't need makeup, you're already beautiful. I prefer you don't wear any when we go out."
"But I really wanna try themmmm! Pans and I have been waiting for monthsss!" you pleaded, giving his arm a gentle tug. "Pansy already has makeup on, it's only fair."
Pansy let out a sudden, accidental snort from the table, making you both turn to look at her. Tom's eyes narrowed, but Pansy quickly masked it, leaning down and whispering something into your ear.
"If you want to try it so bad, make him your model. I dare you."
Your eyes lit up, a brilliant, mischievous idea taking root. You turned back to him, flashing your sweetest smile. "Tommy... can I do your makeup, pleaseeee?"
Tom blinked, completely shocked, his mind momentarily failing to process the absurd request.
Pansy immediately looked away, biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from violently laughing, which only earned her a lethal, warning glare from Tom.
"Absolutely not, Y/N," Tom said, his voice flat and unyielding as he tried to pull his arm back. "I am not a canvas for your cosmetics. I have an image to maintain, and I refuse to be a part of this absurd game."
"It's not an absurd game! It's a luxury set, and your cheekbones are literally perfect for it," you argued back, refusing to let go. "Just a little bit. Please? For me?"
"No. Ask Parkinson if you're so desperate to paint a face."
You didn't back down. Standing on your tiptoes, you looked up straight into his dark eyes, giving him a soft, pleading look while gently resting your hand on his forearm. Tom’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tensing as he stared down at you, fighting a losing battle against your puppy-dog eyes. For a long, tense moment, it looked like he was genuinely going to refuse, snap his textbook shut, and walk clean out of the room.
But then, letting out a quiet, defeated huff that only you could hear, he slowly lowered his crossed arms, his shoulders slumping just a fraction.
Your eyes gleamed with absolute victory. You and Pansy excitedly turned back to the table, eagerly sifting through the limited-edition set to pick out the best products.
Pansy, riding high on the excitement, grabbed a damp blending sponge and took a cautious, eager step toward him. "Alright, Riddle, let's start with some skin preparation—"
Before she could finish the sentence, Tom fixed her with a gaze so sharp, dark, and terrifyingly icy that the temperature in the room felt like it instantly dropped to freezing. Pansy froze mid-stride, the breath catching in her throat. She swallowed hard, immediately set the sponge back down onto the table, and took a giant step backward.
Nobody touches Tom Riddle.
But you aren't afraid of him. Smiling mischievously, you picked up a subtle, luxurious matte palette and a soft, fluffy brush, stepping directly into his personal space. You looked back at Pansy and gave her a reassuring nod, before turning to Tom and playfully poking him right on the cheek, effectively stopping him from glaring at your friend.
"Be nice, Tommy," you chided softly.
Tom let out a soft grunt but didn't protest. He completely refused to sit in your vanity chair or even look in the direction of the mirror, viewing the entire concept of checking his own reflection as utterly beneath him.
Instead, he stayed standing firmly in place. Leaning down slightly, he tilted his face toward yours to accommodate the height difference. One of his large hands found its way to your waist, his grip firm, warm, and deeply possessive as he pulled you just a fraction closer, locking you against him. He allowed only you to touch his face.
While you went to work, Tom remained entirely still, like a flawless statue carved of marble. His dark eyes never left yours, intensely tracking the movement of your eyelashes, the concentration in your features, and the shallow, steady rhythm of your breathing.
From a safe distance near the wardrobe, Pansy kept her voice low, offering quiet advice and instructions so as not to trigger his wrath again. "Use the darker contour shade just under his cheekbone, Y/N... yes, right there. Blend it upward toward the hairline. Carefully. Don't use too much shimmer, he'll kill us."
You followed her directions, using an incredibly light touch to trace his sharp features, adding a subtle, smoky shadow along his eyelids that made his gaze look even deeper, darker, and more lethal than it already was. The air between you grew thick with an undeniable, quiet tension, the rest of the bedroom completely fading into the background. Your heart fluttered a bit at how intensely he was staring at your lips.
When you finally stepped back, lowering the brush and whispering a soft, "All done."
Tom broke the heavy trance. He didn't look at the mirror a single time—he couldn't care less how the makeup actually looked on his skin, because his only focus the entire time had been the sensation of your touch.
As he reluctantly released his grip on your waist, his long fingers trailed slowly, deliberately down the length of your arm, leaving a lingering spark of static heat against your skin. He looked down at you, a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk touching the corner of his lips.
"Finish your paper, love. I'll be waiting in the common room," he murmured smoothly.
With that, he turned on his heel, his robes billowing slightly behind him as he exited the room and shut the door. The second the latch clicked, Pansy let out a massive, dramatic breath she hadn't realized she was holding, slumping against your desk.
"Merlin's beard," Pansy gasped, fanning herself with a notebook. "I thought I was going to meet the business end of his wand today. You are a miracle worker, Y/N."
Masterlist
Mwehehehhee I didnt know how to write this at first but i had a lot of fun doing it
Blaise and Pansy were the ones who thought you to weaponize your charm and hold against them thats why he knows what you were doing but that doesnt mean he can hold off against it
Lorenzo does hus make up occasionally so he knows and can handle the make up thats why his group has 3 people instead of two
Tom would kill everyone if one of the others saw you and Pansy putting make up on him you must never speak of this instance to anyone
they all went out (or in Theodore's case went to sleep) wearing make up except lorenzo keeps his skin care fresh
Mattheo went back to his room because he didnt bring pillows and blankets then Tom didnt let him leave when he tried.
i dont know much about make up so i had to look up somethings and stuffs excuse me if theyre used wrong or if i didnt put the make ups in order or the colors dont suit them
also I'll be closing the Side Quests when i release chapter 18 so keep em coming while theyre still available I'll try to post often (if there are requests so far there's one more after this) and a chapter every week
-Y/N L/N accidentally gets invited in a group chat
Chapter 14: Mattheo and the Hufflepuff
Checking the group chat gave nothing. You couldn't quite put your finger on what was happening, but the silence was deafening.
Tom, Theodore, and Draco hadn't spoken a single word to you outside of the few classes you still shared. Even the rest of the lot had grown distant, sending nothing but short, tightly-worded check-ins now and then. They still ensured you were never left completely alone in the corridors, but the warm, chaotic protective streak had vanished, replaced by a cold, mechanical duty.
During your last class with Draco, he had actively chosen a seat across the room, far away from you. He hadn't cast a single glance in your direction, and the moment Athena came around to sit with you, he packed his things and left without a word.
You could hear the muffled snickers from the girls in the back row, whispering viciously about how the Slytherin princes had finally grown bored of you.
Had you brought too much trouble onto them? Was this the breaking point? Were they completely tired of you?
Most of your days had painfully reverted to how things were before you ever got tangled up with the Slytherins. Athena dragged you around to classes, and you spent your free evenings out on the grounds with Cedric and her.
But the sudden isolation wasn't the only thing that had changed. A wave of hostility had rippled through the castle, specifically targeting your house.
For some unknown reason, Ravenclaws and Slytherins had begun bullying Hufflepuffs in the hallways. Even Athena, who was usually incredibly popular in the best way possible, had fallen victim to their nasty hexes and snide remarks.
Had your mere presence caused all of this?
Today felt different. The very moment you woke up, a heavy, sinking sensation settled in your chest, warning you that something terrible was about to happen.
You curl tightly onto your bed, burying your face in your duvet as a wave of helplessness and misery washes over you. Athena wasn't even there to comfort you; she had landed herself a severe detention after getting into a vicious duel with a Ravenclaw and she flatly refused to elaborate on.
Suddenly, a sharp knock on your dormitory door breaks through your self-pity. You freeze, staring hard at the dark wood to ensure your mind hadn't just imagined the sound.
When the knock sounds a second time, firmer this time, you push yourself up from the mattress and hurry over to check the door.
"Mattheo?" you breathe, pulling the heavy oak door open.
He looks completely exhausted, his shoulders slumped and deep worry etching his features as his eyes lock onto yours.
"Something is going on with everyone," he says without preface, his voice tense. "YN, I know you know something. Please... you have to tell me."
A painful, protective tug hits your heartstrings at the sheer vulnerability in his face.
"Matty, come here," you coo softly, reaching out to gently pull him inside before closing the door firmly against the cold corridor.
You immediately raise your wand, casting a quiet Muffliato around the perimeter of the room, and watch as Mattheo slumps heavily onto the edge of your bed.
"YN, everything has changed since that Quirrell incident," he begins, running a frantic hand through his hair. "Something happened to Tom..." His voice cracks ever so slightly, but you still catch the sudden fracture of emotion at the mere mention of his brother's name. "I know Tom thinks he's protecting me from something. He always bloody does. But I'm grown... I know we don't exactly seem like traditional brothers, but he's all I've got. We care for each other. As aloof and unreadable as he can be, I know he cares about me a lot. And I am getting thoroughly pissed off at how he's completely shutting me out of this."
His fist curls so tightly his knuckles turn stark white against the fabric of his trousers.
"This is like his Hogwarts acceptance all over again," Mattheo mutters, his eyes dropping bitterly to the floor. "Sacrificing absolutely everything for me, without ever letting me carry the weight."
You slide onto the mattress right next to him, gently taking his hand. It won't stop shaking, the fingers twitching with restlessness, but you keep silent for a moment, just letting him feel your presence.
"Everyone is doing it too," he spits out, his jaw clenching. "They’re all in on some massive secret they’re refusing to tell me. Draco, Blaise, Theo... everyone. YN, you’re the only person left in this castle I can actually come to. Please... help me."
You lock eyes with him, you catch the sheer, crushing sadness hiding underneath. It hits you like a physical blow to the chest.
"Matty, I don't know anything for certain..." you admit softly, your voice barely a whisper. "I know you're sad about—"
"I'm not sad, I'm bloody pissed off!" he roars, ripping his hand from yours as he bolts to his feet. He lets out a frustrated groan, pacing the small space of your dormitory and violently running his fingers through his hair. "I—I'm pissed off! I am so fucking angry, I'm so..."
He trails off, the anger suddenly evaporating, leaving him looking hollow and completely broken. He goes dead quiet, staring blankly at the stone floor.
You step into his space, gently taking his hand once more. He doesn't pull away this time.
"Tom is doing something bad," Mattheo whispers, his voice trembling in a way that terrifies you. "Something absolutely horrible. And he hates it. YN... he’s terrified. Every single night, he cries and fights in his sleep. He thrashes around like he's being tortured, and then the second the sun comes up, he wakes up entirely composed, acting as if nothing happened. I’ve never seen him like that. Never. I know something horrible is going on, and I need to find out what it is. I need to help him. I am completely done with being helpless."
A storm of conflicted emotions bubbles violently in your stomach. Could you really tell him what you had witnessed? What Harry had warned you about? You have no right to expose Tom’s secrets—and deep down, you know the reality of the Dark Lord is way more than Mattheo ever bargained for. It could destroy him.
But looking at his desperate face, you can't bring yourself to turn him away.
"I'll help you find out," you say, forcing a soft, reassuring smile to your lips.
You lift his trembling hand, pressing his palm flat against your cheek, and lean into his warmth.
"You won't be carrying this alone, Mattheo. I promise."
Hi!! I am lovvving WWWTS, smau/fic mashup series always get me through the rough days 🫶 possible idea for side quest: how the group would react to puffy trying to power through a full school day while she’s obviously sick - nothing like a good sick fic to rouse the protective side of our Slytherin Gang 🙈💕 thank you!!
What's Wrong With The Slytherins?
Slytherin Gang X Reader
-Achoo! Looks like someone needs pampering
Side Quest 3: Full Ill Will
Draco Malfoy
There you sat at the edge of your bed, sniffling miserably as a dull, heavy ache throbbed behind your eyes. You attempted to stand, but your vision swam immediately, forcing you to sway and fall right back onto the mattress. You thanked Merlin that you had no classes today, but being bedridden didn't mean your stomach was going to cooperate. Pulling out your mobile phone, you unlocked the screen, only to quickly shove it face-down onto the nightstand as the harsh brightness made your head throb with a vengeance.
Your stomach let out a loud, pathetic grumble, making you frown. Muttering a quiet reminder to yourself to just man up, you forced your shaky legs to move and slowly lumbered toward the dormitory door.
"Y/N?" Cedric called out the moment you stepped into the warmth of the Hufflepuff common room. He had been lounging by the fire, but he immediately set his book down when he saw you. "Athena was wondering why you skipped breakfast this morning."
He looked you up and down, taking in your shivering, bundled-up figure, your flushed cheeks, and your constant, pathetic sniffling.
"I'll go find Athena and ask her to grab a tray from the Great Hall for you," Cedric offered gently, his brows furrowing with concern.
"She has class..." you mumbled, your voice sounding entirely hoarse and scratched up.
"Right. Well, we can figure that out. Come on, go back to bed before you collapse," Cedric urged, gently guiding you back toward your room. Too exhausted to argue, you followed his suggestion, collapsing into the sheets and falling into a deep, dreamless sleep within minutes.
Hours later, you slowly blinked your eyes open. The heavy ache was still there, but your hungry stomach was suddenly wide awake, lured out of sleep by the rich, savory aroma of hot soup that you absolutely could not ignore.
"Draco?" you rasped, squinting through the dim lighting as you spotted a shock of white-blonde hair near your bed.
"You look absolutely horrible," Draco grumbled by way of greeting, crossing his legs elegantly.
"You look good," you muttered, your filter completely gone from the fever.
"I know," Draco replied instantly, raising a perfectly manicured brow. "And let’s try to keep it that way, shall we? I'd rather not get sick, gorgeous. Now, are you hungry?"
He kept his distance, sitting on the very edge of a chair pulled up to your bedside, carefully holding a steaming porcelain bowl. "I had a house-elf fetch this truffle-broth soup straight from The Gilded Cauldron in London. It’s supposed to restore stamina, or some such nonsense. It should help you feel better."
You peered at the steam rising from the bowl and looked up at him with tired eyes. "Feed me?" you pleaded softly.
Draco visibly cringed, his nose wrinkling in reluctance. But as he looked at your pale face, he let out a defeated sigh and scooted his chair closer to do exactly as you asked. He blew gently on the first spoonful before bringing it to your lips.
"Honestly, how are you even sick?" Draco began to ramble, his voice adopting that familiar, posh cadence as he carefully fed you another spoonful. "It had better not be one of those wretched Muggle diseases you can easily catch just by breathing the same air. I’ve told you a thousand times that your immune system is shockingly fragile. If I wake up tomorrow with a congested nose or a ruined complexion, I am holding you entirely responsible. I have Quidditch strategy meetings to attend, and I refuse to look flushed and miserable in front of the team. It’s completely beneath a Malfoy to snivel, Y/N, it truly is—"
You let out a raspy, bubbling laugh at his endless, dramatic lecture, but the sudden movement caught in your throat, turning into a wet cough.
Draco’s eyes went wide with pure panic. He immediately brought his arm up, burying his face into the expensive fabric of his green silk sleeve. "Don't cough near me!" he shrieked, his voice cracking slightly in terror. "Merlin's beard, aim it toward the wall! Are you trying to assassinate me?!"
Seeing the fearsome Draco Malfoy cowering from a tiny cough only made you laugh harder, which unfortunately triggered a genuine fit of coughing. Seeing you actually struggle, Draco’s dramatic facade instantly vanished. He hurriedly set the soup bowl down on the nightstand, poured a glass of water, and held it to your lips, watching you with anxiety to make sure you were alright.
Once your breathing evened out, you leaned your heavy, feverish head directly into the cool palm of his hand as he checked your temperature.
"Dray... I'm so cold," you whispered, pouting slightly as you gave him your best puppy-dog eyes.
Draco froze, his hand still resting against your forehead. He looked entirely defeated, his grey eyes darting around your dormitory to see if there was any alternative—another blanket, a hot water bottle—anything that wouldn't require what he was about to do. Finding nothing, he let out a dramatic, long-suffering groan.
"Right. Move over, then. I’m getting into the blankets," he grumbled, though his hands were already unpinning his green-and-silver prefect badge so it wouldn't poke you. "If I catch this wretched chill, I swear to you, my father will hear about the school's lack of basic hygiene and proper heating."
The moment his tall, solid frame slid into the bed beside you, you didn't waste a second. You wrapped your arms tightly around his waist, burying your face directly into his chest, soaking up his warmth. Draco went completely stiff at first, his hands hovering awkwardly in the air as he glared at the ceiling, still terrified of catching whatever it is you have. But within a few seconds, he surrendered. He let out a soft sigh, wrapping his long arms securely around you, pulling you impossibly closer into his chest.
Wrapped in his expensive scent of mint and cedarwood, it didn't take long for your eyes to grow heavy again.
As you began to drift off, you heard his voice echoing faintly above your head. "Wait... don't sleep just yet, darling. You need to take the Pepperup potion I brought..."
He shook your shoulder gently, but it was already far too late. You were fast asleep, completely safe and warm in his arms.
Blaise Zabini
The piercing, loud ringing of your phone abruptly woke you from a heavy, feverish sleep. Groaning at the sharp spike of pain in your temples, you fumbled around the nightstand until your fingers clamped onto the device. You slid the screen open and pressed it to your ear.
"Hello?" you mumbled, your voice sounding terribly rough, thick, and stuffed up from the head cold.
"Y/N? Are you alright? You don't sound well at all..." Blaise’s smooth, familiar voice came through the speaker, laced with immediate concern.
"Blaise?" you rasped, squinting against the dim light of your room.
"You're late for our morning lecture, love. I just wanted to check on you. Where are you?"
"I don't feel well right now," you confessed, resting the back of your free hand against your burning forehead.
"Right. Stay exactly where you are, I'll be over in a bit."
"I'll be fine, Blaise. You're literally in the middle of class—"
Before you could even finish your protest, the line went entirely dead.
You let out a soft sigh and attempted to sit up, but a wave of dizziness washed over you. Just as you were debating whether to fight the gravity of your blankets, a soft, polite knock sounded at your dormitory door.
"Darling, it's me. I'm coming in," Blaise announced quietly.
The door swung open, revealing Blaise looking effortlessly neat in his school robes. In his hand, he carried a porcelain mug, sending up plumes of aromatic, steaming tea that immediately filled the room with the scent of honey and calming herbs.
"Blaise," you called out hoarsely, making another weak attempt to prop yourself up against your pillows.
"Hush now, love, don't try to get up," he murmured softly, striding over to your bedside with a fluid, relaxed grace.
Before sitting down, he smoothly drew his wand from his sleeve with a flick of his wrist. Casting a silent, gentle charm, he adjusted the lights of your room, dimming the harsh brightness to a soft, amber glow that instantly eased the throbbing ache behind your eyes. He then settled gently onto the edge of your mattress. One of his large, warm hands came to rest flat against your shoulder, anchoring you comfortably, while his other hand held the steaming mug.
You looked up at his handsome, calm face and let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Leaning forward slightly, you rested your heavy head right against his shoulder, taking comfort in his solid presence. Blaise chuckled softly, a low rumble in his chest, and shifted slightly to better support your weight.
"C'mon, drink up. It has a mild pepperup remedy dissolved inside," he coaxed gently, guiding the warm mug into your hands.
As you took your first careful sips, Blaise used the opportunity to assess you. His warm palm drifted from your shoulder up to your cheek, his thumb lightly brushing across your cheekbone to gauge just how high your fever was.
"You have class..." you choked out between sips, looking at him guiltily. "You shouldn't skip."
"The whole classroom went entirely haywire anyway," Blaise replied smoothly, a faint, amused smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Finnigan managed to cause yet another massive explosion during the practical portion, and Theo somehow got caught in the crossfire. The professor is losing his mind trying to sort out the smoke."
He shifted back against your headboard, pulling you a little closer into his side so you could lean against him completely.
"So, I'm staying right here where it's quiet," he decided, his low voice a soothing balm to your exhausted mind. "Just close your eyes and rest, darling. I'll stay here in case you need anything while I catch up on my study."
Before you could object, he leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head. You smiled against his robes, feeling entirely safe and cared for as you took another slow sip of your warm tea, finally letting your heavy eyelids flutter shut.
Theodore Nott
Your dormitory door slammed against the wall with a deafening bang as Theodore practically threw himself into the room, his arms completely overflowing with an absurd assortment of rustling bags and packages.
"Y/N! How are you feeling?!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, stumbling over his own feet as he crossed the threshold.
The sheer volume of his voice hit your throbbing head like a Bludger. You flinched, wincing tightly as you offered him a very hesitant, pained smile from beneath your blankets.
"Theo, please... I told you I was fine," you croaked, shielding your eyes from his blinding energy.
"Nonsense! You look like a dying ghoul!" Theodore declared, completely oblivious to his own volume. But before he could make it to your bedside, his shoe caught the edge of your rug. He went flying, dropping every single item in his arms as he crashed onto the floor. "Bloody hell! My soup!"
He immediately scrambled on his hands and knees, frantically searching through the wreckage of bags.
You couldn't help but let out a weak giggle, but the laughter quickly caught in your throat, sending you into a sudden fit of harsh, breathless coughing.
The moment the sound hit his ears, Theodore stopped scrambling entirely. He scrambled to his feet and rushed to your side, hovering over you like a stressed-out mother hen. "Oh, Merlin—are you alright? How bad is it? Do I need to get Pomfrey? Don't die on me, pretty girl!"
"Thank you for coming," you gasped out, catching your breath and leaning back against your pillows. "But I'm really not that sick, Theo. Just a bit warm. And coughing."
"Right. Warm. I can fix warm," he muttered, looking entirely determined.
With a dramatic whip of his wand, he cast a charm. The scattered bags on the floor instantly sorted themselves back into a neat pile, and the container of soup floated up into his hand. He looked down at it, his face falling into a comically disappointed pout. Because of his spectacular fall, the container was now a sad, messy half-empty.
"Uhh, here! A bit-cold-but-kinda-warm, half-empty, delicious soup!" he declared, handing the container to you with a proud grin—though it was really more of an enthusiastic shove directly into your arms.
"I also brought sugar quills, chocolate frogs, and this absolutely brilliant book on medieval curses! Whichever one you want, it's yours!" he chirped, setting each item down on your bed cover one by one, completely burying your knees in sweets and dark literature.
"Theo, it's really fi—"
"OH! And also, I thought we could try that Muggle thing you told me about... what was it? Kare-oke? Or, wait, no, actually, you can't do that. You're sick, you'll completely ruin your throat, and then your voice will sound like a broken Mandrake, and I really can't have that. Oh, I also brought a Zonko's dungbomb just in case Lorenzo tries to come in here and annoy you, because I can just toss it at his shoes—"
You couldn't help but smile, warmth blooming in your chest as he rambled on at a mile a minute. You quietly began sipping the lukewarm soup just to give yourself something to do while he paced the room.
"Theo," you said softly, breaking into his monologue. "I'm fine, you know. You really don't have to stay here and watch me."
"Nonsense," Theodore pouted dramatically, instantly dropping onto the edge of your mattress and grabbing your free hand with both of his. "Blaise is being entirely boring today, and I need my absolute favorite person back. You're stuck with me."
He leaned in closer, inspecting your flushed face with genuine, sweet concern. He squeezed your hand, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm against your knuckles. "Besides, who else is going to make sure you actually rest? You're terrible at taking care of yourself, Y/N."
The sweet sentiment was cut short as a sudden tickle hit your throat. You started coughing again, your shoulders shaking as you tried to muffle the sound into your sleeve.
Theodore panicked, his eyes widening. "Right! Emergency measures!" He scrambled for his wand, flourishing it with terrifying confidence. "I read about this in an old healing diary in the Nott library. Let me try this counter-curse on your forehead, yeah? Just hold perfectly still..."
"Theo, I really don't think that's a good id—"
You didn't even get to finish your sentence. Before you could duck, Theodore shouted the incantation. A bright, chaotic flash of purple light erupted from the tip of his wand. Instead of hitting your forehead, the spell hit your bedpost, ricocheted instantly, and shot him straight back in the face.
A loud POP echoed through the room.
When the purple smoke cleared, Theodore was sitting there perfectly fine, except his fluffy brown hair was blown completely backward as if he’d been hit by a hurricane, and his entire face was covered in a layer of bright, sparkling yellow glitter.
He blinked slowly, looking utterly bewildered, a few stray sparkles falling from his eyelashes.
You stared at him for a second before bursting into absolute fits of laughter, completely forgetting about your sore throat as Theodore pouted through the glitter.
Tom Riddle
With a heavy, throbbing head, you stared blankly down at your parchment, the ink blurring together into illegible smears. Up at the front of the classroom, Professor Flitwick rambled on about a theoretical charm, his squeaky voice bouncing painfully against your skull in a way you couldn't quite comprehend.
The sheer weight of your head was too much; you couldn't even lift it to watch the blackboard. When you tried to force yourself upright, the entire room spun violently. Your balance slipped, and you began to fall sideways off your bench—only for a pair of strong, elegant hands to instantly catch you by the shoulders.
Tom sneered, pulling you against his side. He pressed the back of his knuckles to your cheek for a fraction of a second. "You're running a fever," he hissed, his dark eyes snapping down to yours with dangerous intensity.
"I'm fine," you whispered hoarsely, blinking through the haze as you reached for your quill to go back to your notes.
Tom’s hand wrapped firmly around your wrist, stopping you instantly. He leaned in, his voice a low, lethal murmur meant for your ears alone. "Gather your things, go back to your room, and wait for me there."
"Tommy, I'm fine," you protested weakly, using your pet name for him in a desperate bid to soften his mood. "I just need to study more. We have the exams—"
Before you could finish, Tom stood up abruptly, the sharp screech of his chair against the stone floor completely disrupting the quiet classroom. Without a word to Flitwick or the staring students, he pulled you up with him.
"Tom!" you gasped, trying to break free of his iron grip, but the sudden movement made your vision go entirely black. Your knees buckled, and you fell straight into his arms.
Before you could even process the humiliation, Tom scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you bridal-style right out of the classroom. He strode down the corridors with a cold, terrifying aura that kept any curious students from daring to ask questions.
"You are infuriatingly stubborn," Tom scolded, his voice low and vibrating with tight anger against your ear as he walked. "Risking your health for a useless lecture. If you collapse in the middle of the castle again, Y/N, I will personally lock you in your dormitory until graduation. You will not compromise your well-being out of sheer idiocy."
Reaching your room, he opened the door with a flick of his wand. He laid you down onto your bed and stood over you, glaring down with crossed arms.
"Stop being stubborn," he commanded, though the harsh edge in his voice finally began to thaw as he looked at your flushed, shivering form.
He let out a long, quiet sigh, the tension leaving his shoulders as he sat down on the edge of the mattress beside you. Tom reached out, taking your small hand in his large, cool one, his thumb lightly stroking the back of your knuckles.
"Go to rest," he said, his voice dropping into a rare, incredibly soft cadence that sent a different kind of shiver down your spine. "I'll be right here."
You hated to admit it, but the cool comfort of his hand and the soothing authority of his voice were exactly what your body needed. With Tom guarding your bedside, the exhaustion finally won, and you closed your eyes, falling into a deep, safe sleep.
When you finally woke up, the heavy fog in your brain had cleared just a bit. You blinked against the soft lighting of the room, turning your head just as the door clicked open. Tom stepped inside, moving with a quiet, deliberate grace, carrying a heavy silver tray in his hands.
He paused when he noticed your open eyes. "Were you up long?" he asked, his dark eyes instantly scanning your face to assess your color.
"No," you rasped, your throat still a bit dry. "Where were you?"
"I got you food. Go eat," he commanded smoothly, setting the tray down across your lap. It was laden with perfectly prepared, easily digestible food from the kitchens, still steaming hot.
"Thank you..." you murmured, offering him a small, grateful smile.
Tom crossed his arms, leaning against the bedpost as he watched you take your first few bites. "Do not think a polite thank-you excuses your behavior from earlier," he began, his voice dropping back into a low, lecturing scold. "If I ever catch you trying to suffer through a lecture while half-conscious again, I will not hesitate to spell you directly to sleep on the spot. Your health is not a trifling matter you can ignore whenever it suits you. Now, finish the food. You need to take your medicine immediately after."
You glanced at the dark, thick potion resting in a crystal vial on the edge of the tray, and you couldn't help but wince at the thought of it. It looked absolutely vile.
Tom’s eyes narrowed slightly, catching your expression instantly.
"Drink it, Y/N," he hissed, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. "I didn't spend three hours over a cauldron in the dungeons for you to whine about it like a child. You will be well by tomorrow morning, because I simply refuse to tolerate you looking this pathetic."
A small smile broke across your face, the warmth in your chest completely overriding his harsh words. You looked from the vial up to his face. "You made it?" you asked softly.
Tom didn't answer. Instead, his jaw tightened slightly, and he let out a sharp glare that failed miserably at hiding his underlying fondness. He moved forward, single-handedly lifting the tray off your lap and setting it on the nightstand. He then nudged your legs, silently demanding you scoot over so he could claim the empty spot on the mattress right beside you.
You didn't say another word. You picked up the vial, uncorked it, and forced the bitter potion down your throat in one go, wrinkling your nose at the awful aftertaste.
The moment the empty glass hit the nightstand, you turned and wrapped your arms tightly around Tom’s waist, burying your face into the cool, expensive fabric of his robes. Tom went entirely still for a beat, his chest rising and falling with a slow breath. Then, without a sound, his strong arms wound around you, pulling your healing body flush against his chest, holding you securely in the quiet room.
Mattheo Riddle
You sat on the wooden benches of the Quidditch pitch, shivering despite the oppressive heat of the sun. Draco and Blaise had practically begged you to watch their practice match, and you hadn't wanted to let them down, but the soaring temperature was doing absolutely nothing to help your already splitting headache. Every time a broom zoomed past, the rush of wind made your stomach churn.
Realizing you couldn't handle it for another second, you shakily pushed yourself up from the benches, intending to walk toward the cool shade of the stadium towers to help yourself.
"Y/N?" a dark, raspy voice called out nearby.
"Mattheo?" you whimpered weakly.
Before you could even take another step, your knees completely gave out. You tumbled forward, falling straight into his strong arms as your vision went entirely black, passing out before you could even hit the ground.
When you finally came to, the harsh glare of the sun was gone, replaced by the familiar, cozy dimness of your own dormitory. You were buried beneath a heavy layer of blankets, and a damp, blissfully cold towel was resting across your throbbing forehead.
"Damned school nurse. Bloody useless, honestly," a low, angry growl vibrated from the side of your bed. You blinked open your eyes to see Mattheo sitting right beside you, his knuckles white as he squeezed out a rag into a basin of cold water. "You're burning up like a furnace, and that old bat just flings a bottle of generic medication at you and sends you right back to the dorms. Absolute joke."
"Mattheo?" you mumbled, your voice raw.
The moment he heard your voice, the fierce scowl on his face instantly melted away. He offered you a soft, uncharacteristically gentle smile and set the rag down. "Hey. How are you feeling, love?" he asked, his rough hand gently sweeping a stray lock of hair away from your damp face. "What on earth were you thinking, being out on the pitch while you're this sick?"
"The boys wanted me to watch their match," you confessed softly, pulling the blankets tighter around your chin.
Mattheo’s jaw clenched tightly. He bit his lower lip, a dangerous glint flashing in his dark eyes as he muttered under his breath, "I'm going to bloody kill them. Both of them."
Before he could expand on his threat, a knock rattled your dormitory door. Both of your heads snapped toward the sound. Mattheo’s entire posture went rigid with pure hostility. He stood up, striding over to the door and tearing it open just a crack—not enough for whoever was outside to see you, but just enough to unleash his wrath.
"Thank you for the food, but if you come back here and bother her again, I will personally beat you to a pulp," Mattheo growled down the corridor, his voice laced with absolute venom. "It's your fault she's in this state anyway. Now get the hell out."
He slammed the door shut, locking it with a heavy, flick of his wand, ensuring no one else would dare disturb your peace. When he turned back around, he was carrying a steaming tray of food.
He sat right back down on the edge of your mattress, his aggressive demeanor completely vanishing the second his eyes landed back on you. He carefully placed the tray on his lap, blowing on a spoonful of warm broth before bringing it gently to your lips.
"C'mon, eat up for me, yeah?" he coaxed, his voice dropping into that quiet, possessive cadence that always made you feel incredibly safe. "You need to keep your strength up."
You quietly swallowed the food, watching him as he fed you. He was still incredibly tense, his eyes scanning your face, tracking the flush of your cheeks as if he could personally fight off the fever for you.
"Mattheo, don't be mean to them," you murmured between bites. "They didn't know."
"They should have looked at you," he countered flatly, his thumb gently catching a stray drop of soup from the corner of your mouth. "I knew the exact second I saw you across the pitch. They're idiots, Y/N. You're mine to look after, and I don't appreciate them breaking my girl."
Once the tray was empty, he set it aside on the floor. Without asking, Mattheo unbuttoned his outer school robes, tossing them onto a nearby chair, and slid right into the bed beside you. He pulled your shivering body firmly against his chest, wrapping his long, solid arms around you like a protective shield.
"Bloody hell, love, you’re still burning up," he whispered into your hair, his grip tightening as if he could hold you together. "Just lay still and shut your eyes, yeah? I've got you. I'm not going anywhere."
Buried in his warmth and his comforting scent, you let out a contented sigh, finally letting your eyes close as he held you tight against the world.
Lorenzo Berkshire
A soft, rhythmic knock sounded at your dormitory door, followed by a smooth, melodic voice. "Y/N? Athena told me you weren't feeling well today. I wanted to check on you, love."
"Come in," you rasped out, your throat feeling dry and rough.
The door swung open, and Lorenzo stepped into the room, looking effortlessly immaculate. The second his eyes landed on your flushed face and bundled-up figure, his casual posture shifted into immediate, doting concern.
"Oh, darling, you look so dreadfully unwell," he murmured, hurrying across the room to your bedside. He sank onto the edge of your mattress and immediately pressed the back of his hand against your cheek. His skin felt blissfully cool against your feverish heat. He sighed softly, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear from your watering eyes. "You're burning up. My poor girl."
"I'm fine, Enzo," you tried to object, your voice cracking slightly. "You don't have to skip your lessons for me."
"Nope. Absolutely not," Lorenzo replied instantly, a charming, stubborn grin flashing across his handsome features. "There is not a chance in hell I am leaving you here alone while you're sick. Besides, look what I brought."
He reached for a beautifully arranged silver tray he had left by the door and settled it gently near your lap. He didn't even give you the option to feed yourself; he smoothly took the spoon, blew gently on the warm, savory broth, and guided it to your lips.
While you slowly finished the food and moved on to sip a perfectly sweetened herbal tea he had prepared, Enzo kept himself busy turning your room into a private luxury suite. With a graceful flick of his wand, he lit a cluster of expensive, enchanted scented candles. A soothing aroma of lavender and crushed vanilla instantly filled the air, melting away the tense, heavy throb behind your eyes.
Next, he pulled out a small bowl of fresh, exotic fruits. Sitting right back down beside you, he began to peel them for you, his long fingers moving with effortless grace.
"Look at you, my poor princess. Stuck in bed while the rest of the castle suffers through Binns' history class," he teased softly, his dark eyes crinkling with pure affection as he pop a perfectly peeled fruit slice into your mouth.
He brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your jawline. "Consider me your humble servant for the day, darling. Do you want me to read to you from one of those dreadfully boring textbooks, or shall I simply lay down here beside you and look incredibly handsome until you feel better?"
You couldn't help but chuckle at his ridiculous vanity, the heavy ache in your head completely forgotten. You nudged the blankets over, giving him a tired smile that told him exactly what you wanted. Enzo smirked, entirely pleased with himself, and slid under the covers, pulling you gently against his side to keep you warm and thoroughly pampered for the rest of the day.
Pansy Parkinson
"Y/N!"
Pansy burst into your dormitory room, the door swinging wide as she hurried inside, her face a picture of absolute worry. "You weren't in our morning lecture. Are you okay? What happened?"
Before you could even answer, she rushed straight to your bedside. Dropping her bag on the floor, she immediately sank onto the mattress and reached out. Her hands were warm and gentle as she pressed the palm of one hand tightly against your forehead, using her other hand to cup your jaw.
"Oh my goodness... you are running a massive fever," she fretted, her thumb lightly brushing over your flushed cheekbone. She leaned in closer, checking your eyes, her eyebrows furrowing with deep anxiety. She carefully unbuttoned the top collar of your shirt to make sure you weren't suffocating under your own clothes, then reached down to feel your hands, rubbing them between hers. "Your fingers are freezing, but your face is burning up. Why didn't you tell me sooner? You shouldn't have been left alone like this."
Without waiting for a response, she pulled out her mobile phone and quickly dialed a number. The second the line connected, she began commanding the house-elves, you assume. "I need a tray of light, warm food, a premium pepperup tonic, a silk eye mask, extra plush pillows, and a basin of cool water sent up to Y/N's room immediately. Yes, right now. Thank you."
She hung up and immediately began moving around the room, tidying up the blankets and checking the temperature of the air, entirely in full caretaker mode.
"Pansy... what about your class?" you asked hoarsely, watching her pace around with a weak smile.
"Class doesn't matter nearly as much as you, love," she said softly but firmly, walking back over to gently smooth your messy hair out of your face.
A quiet knock sounded at the door. Pansy sprang up, opened it just wide enough to grab the massive stack of supplies that was brought, and glared down the corridor. "Thank you Theo! Don't come back. It's girls time," she ordered flatly before shutting the door securely.
You blinked, completely stunned, your jaw dropping slightly despite your exhaustion. You had assumed she was barking orders at a house-elf with that terrifyingly tone, not commanding Theodore Nott to play her personal delivery boy.
Pansy turned back around, catching the absolute shock on your face, and let out a dramatic, amused chuckle.
"What?" she asked, a smirk playing on her lips as she walked back over to your bed. "He was skipping anyway, and he's surprisingly fast when I told him it was for you. Also, if I didn't lock that door, he'd be trailing in here with loud voices and chaotic nonsense, completely ruining your rest."
She traded your old pillows for the fresh, incredibly fluffy ones she had just ordered, carefully lifting your head to arrange them perfectly behind you.
"There. Much better," she smiled, setting the steaming tray of food and the health tonic onto your lap. She sat down on the edge of the mattress, resting a comforting hand on your knee. "Now, you're officially stuck with me for the rest of the day. So, drink your medicine, and I'll tell you exactly what ridiculous thing Granger did in Transfiguration today."
If you’re doing requests for puffy could you do the Slytherin gang having to meet her witch pet? A tawny owl with a bad attitude and who’s (heh) highly protective of puffy. If the owl does not accept them it’s time for them to be worried..
What's Wrong With The Slytherins?
Slytherin Gang X Reader
-Someone came home, looks like the gang has to impress them
Side Quest 2: Your Favorite Boy
The Slytherins—or at least, the chaotic majority of them—were currently scattered across your dormitory waiting for you to return, when a sharp tapping echoed from the windowpane.
They all traded confused glances. Theodore, being the closest to the glass, pushed himself up from his seat to investigate. Perched on the stone sill outside was a magnificent owl, looking entirely unimpressed and carrying a letter.
"Oh! That must be Y/N's pet!" Pansy chirped excitedly, scrambling to her feet to take a look.
Theodore threw open the window, but rather than flying inside, the bird remained exactly where it was. It slowly tilted its head, scanning the occupants of the room one by one as if judging their very souls.
"Are you not Y/N's, then? Are you perhaps Pond's?" Theodore asked, extending a cautious hand to stroke the feathers on its head.
The owl let out a sharp, offended screech.
Before Theo could even pull his hand back, the owl launched itself forward, its wings beating furiously as it began to slap him square in the face.
"Blimey—get off! Ouch!" Theodore yelped, hurriedly raising his arms to shield his face. While the feathers didn't exactly hurt, the sheer velocity of the wing-buffeting was entirely overwhelming.
The rest of the room instantly erupted into roaring laughter. Lorenzo, having thoroughly enjoyed the spectacle, finally decided to play the savior. Still chuckling, he lunged forward to pull Theodore out of the fray, only for the bird to pivot mid-air and deliver a sharp, disciplinary peck right to Enzo’s knuckles.
"Ow! Bloody hell!" Lorenzo hissed, cradling his hand as the assault on Theo finally ceased.
With the owl satisfied of the damage, it turned its gaze toward the door. With a parting, majestic flourish—clipping Enzo right across the cheek with the tip of its wing like a bloke flicking his cape—the bird glided gracefully across the room and landed inside the empty brass cage.
Right at that moment, the dormitory door swung open. You walked in, flanked by Tom and Draco. Tom had a hand resting lightly around your waist, but the owl let out a distinct, melodious hoot, immediately drawing your attention away from the boys.
"Y/N, is that bloody bird yours?" Blaise asked from his armchair, looking highly amused.
"Oh, Merlin! (Owl Name)!" you cried, your eyes widening in pure delight as you rushed over to the cage. "What on earth are you doing here?! He belongs to my mum and dad, actually. They’ve had him ever since their wedding day."
As you gently took the parchment from the owl, the letter began to unfold itself in your hands. It didn't explode like a Howler; instead, it hovered slightly, it began to move as if talking while your mother’s voice echoed softly throughout the room.
"Y/N, my dear. Your father and I thought it was finally time to officially pass (Owl Name) on to you. He was always meant to be yours, you see. We fully intended to send him with you for your first year at Hogwarts, but there was a bit of trouble back then. I know how deeply fond you are of him, so we are entirely at peace knowing he’s in your care. Think of him as a little piece of home keeping you company on your journey."
The parchment folded itself back up and dropped gently onto your desk. You beamed, turning back to the room with an excited smile.
"Everyone, this is (Owl Name)! I do hope you all get along. He’s honestly the sweetest thing."
Right on cue, the owl narrowed its eyes, scanning the room with a look of pure, unadulterated judgment.
"That 'sweetest thing' just launched a full-scale assault on my face the moment I opened the window," Theodore grumbled, crossing his arms and frowning deeply.
(Owl Name) tilted his head to the side, blinking slowly as if feigning absolute innocence. You looked between the boys and your pet.
"Did you really?" you asked, letting out a soft giggle when the owl let out a gentle hoot and shook his head. "Oh, don't be daft, Theo. He probably just didn't recognize you all! Come here, let me properly introduce you so he knows you're friends."
You went around the room, introducing each of the Slytherins one by one while (Owl Name) stared them down. "There. I expect you all to be on your best behavior!" you smiled.
But as the Slytherins looked at the owl—and the owl looked back at them like a strictly protective guardian—they collectively realized that earning this bird's approval was going to be an absolute nightmare.
The first completely unwilling attempt at getting close to (Owl Name) was made by Draco and Blaise.
Your dormitory room was currently empty, save for the two boys who had slipped inside to wait for you.
"You could’ve just sent her a text to watch the practice match, you know," Blaise said, letting out a breath as he flopped lazily onto your bed.
"And risk having her cheer for the Hufflepuffs instead of us?" Draco snapped back, adjusting his collar in the mirror.
"She’d cheer for them either way, you daft git. It’s her house," Blaise pointed out, rolling his eyes.
"Whatever."
A tap against the glass made them both freeze. They turned their heads slowly toward the windowpane.
"Oh, brilliant. It’s that bloody bird," Blaise muttered, staring at the window with a look of pure dread.
"(Owl Name)?" Draco frowned, stepping closer. "Why on earth is he outside?"
"Don't open it," Blaise warned, narrowing his eyes at the silhouette beyond the glass. "It’ll murder you in your sleep, Malfoy. I'm telling you."
Draco rolled his eyes, attempting to summon his usual pureblood bravado, and strode over to the latch anyway. Throwing the window open, he quickly moved to the side to let the bird pass, but the owl remained firmly perched on the stone sill, unmoving.
"What’s that dangling from his feet?" Blaise asked, leaning forward slightly from the bed.
Draco took a closer look, and his aristocratic composure instantly shattered. He leaped backward, his face turning entirely pale. "Bloody hell! Is that a snake?!"
(Owl Name) fixed his large, unblinking eyes on both of them. A small, green snake squirmed helplessly beneath his sharp claws. As if deliberately making sure the two Slytherins were paying undivided attention, the owl slowly, picked up the snake with his beak and began to swallow it whole—all while staring the boys down. It was a blatant, chilling message to the house of the serpent.
The two boys huddled slightly closer together, utterly terrified by the sheer audacity of the bird.
Once he had finished his gruesome afternoon tea, (Owl Name) let out a small, satisfied hoot. He clicked his beak twice at them, flew gracefully across the room, and settled back into his brass cage, leaving Draco and Blaise completely scarred.
The message was well received by the Slytherins.
The next attempt at making peace with (Owl Name) was a little more intentional. Mattheo, Lorenzo, and Pansy all marched into your dormitory room with a plan.
"Oh, hello, (Owl Name)!" Pansy said with a bright, entirely forced smile, trying her absolute best to look welcoming.
"We brought you a bit of a snack," Mattheo chimed in, a smirk playing on his lips as he held up a small, wire-caged rodent. "Take it as a peace offering and a welcome gift from the house. No hard feelings, yeah?"
The owl merely fluffed his feathers in response, letting out a low, deeply unimpressed clicking sound as he repositioned himself on his perch for better comfort, entirely ignoring Mattheo’s offering.
Right at that moment, the door swung open and you walked into the room. Lorenzo was at your side in a flash. Smiling smoothly, he slid a hand around your waist, guiding you gently toward your favorite armchair to sit down.
(Owl Name) moved even faster.
With a sudden, majestic sweep of his wings, the owl launched himself from his cage and landed perfectly on your shoulder. He immediately flared his wings out in a broad, defensive shield around your neck. The wide span of his feathers effectively blocked off the entire side of your chair—leaving Lorenzo standing there with absolutely no space to sit on the armrest beside you as he had intended.
Lorenzo froze, staring at the bird, quickly taking his hand away from your waist before the owl decided to take a bite of his fingers.
"Y/N, look! We brought a snack for (Owl Name)!" Pansy beamed, quickly snatching the caged rodent from Mattheo’s hand to present it to you. "We heard he fancied a snake for tea yesterday, so we were hoping he might prefer something a bit different today!"
"Aww, thank you, guys!" you said, genuinely touched. You looked up at the bird perched on your shoulder. "(Owl Name), can you go and say thank you to them?"
The owl merely glared at the trio, letting out a low, incredibly ungrateful hoot.
"Properly, boy," you chided softly with a giggle.
Taking your cue, the bird launched himself forward. But instead of a polite greeting, he landed squarely on Lorenzo’s shoulder. His sharp talons dug firmly into the fabric of Enzo's robes, and he began to flap his massive wings excitedly, hooting like a maniac as his feathers repeatedly slapped Lorenzo clean across the face.
"Blimey—get him off! Y/N, help!" Lorenzo muffled through a mouthful of feathers.
You burst out laughing, stepping in to gently coax the owl away and back into his cage. The moment he was free, Lorenzo frozen in place, wearing an expression of pure, terrified shock as he looked over at Pansy and Mattheo for sympathy.
"Would you lot like to try feeding him?" you asked, turning to smile warmly at the three of them.
Right on cue, (Owl Name) turned his head completely around, fixing them with a wide, unsettling stare that sent an immediate shiver straight down their spines. It was the bird-equivalent of a psychotic smirk.
Without a single second of hesitation, Pansy and Lorenzo snapped their arms out, pointing their index fingers directly at Mattheo.
You turned your gaze to Mattheo, looking up at him expectantly. "Would you like to do the honors, then?"
"Can you promise he won't bite my fingers off?" Mattheo muttered, eyeing the bird with deep suspicion.
"Oh, come off it. I thought you said you were going to prove your dominance to the bird," Pansy scoffed, crossing her arms and smirking from a safe distance.
"I have to agree with that but," Lorenzo chimed in, adjusting his ruffled collar. "That's not a bird. That's a bloody monster in a feathery trench coat. Mattheo is not proving anything."
"He’s perfectly safe, you lot! He wouldn't do a thing," you insisted, rolling your eyes. You grabbed Mattheo by the arm, gently pulling him closer to the cage, and placed the small rodent into his hand.
(Owl Name) actually rolled his eyes before leaning forward. To everyone's utter shock, the owl took the offering from Mattheo’s fingers entirely gently, swallowing it down without a single fuss.
You beamed, turning around to face Pansy and Lorenzo. "See? I told you he was—"
A sharp, sudden gasp cut you off.
The exact moment your back was turned to show the others how well it had gone, (Owl Name) lunged forward with lightning speed and delivered a swift, vicious nip straight to the meat of Mattheo’s thumb.
"Bloody hell!" Mattheo hissed, snapping his hand back and glaring death at the bird, who simply settled back onto his perch, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.
"Right, that’s it. We’re bringing the big guy in tomorrow," Pansy declared, throwing her hands up in absolute surrender as she backed away from the cage. "I'm not risking my manicure for a bird."
As your dormitory room became crowded once again, (Owl Name) decided he had officially tolerated enough. He scrambled up to hide right against the crook of your neck, glaring down his beak at every single person in the room.
"Look, (Owl Name), it’s us! The friendly Slytherins who didn't petrify you!" Theodore chirped, waving his hands in a frantic peace offering. The owl merely let out a dismissive hoot, turning his head completely away as if Theo weren't even worth the bother.
The moment Mattheo stepped forward to approach you, the bird’s wings flared out instantly, his feathers fluffing up as he glared death at the boy.
"Calm down, will you? I was only grabbing something, damn!" Mattheo rolled his eyes, reaching past you to grab the phone resting on the nightstand next to you.
Before his fingers could even brush the screen, (Owl Name)’s wing snapped outward like a whip, slapping the phone clean out of Mattheo's hand. The device clattered onto the floor, and the owl let out a deeply smug, satisfied hoot.
"(Owl Name)! That is not nice," you scolded gently, looking over your shoulder at him.
"What isn't nice?" Tom’s deep, smooth voice echoed from the doorway.
The moment Tom stepped into the room, the entire circle of Slytherins smirked. (Owl Name)’s brave, terrifying facade instantly shattered; he let out a tiny, pathetic squeak and practically shrunk behind your back.
Tom strode over to where you were sitting. Without a word, he easily scooped you up, settling himself down in the chair and pulling you right onto his lap. (Owl Name), who had been thoroughly disrupted by the movement, fluttered back up onto your shoulder. Tom reached up, casually stroking the owl, without a single complaint.
"Tom, I swear I haven't gotten to hold Y/N in absolutely ages," Pansy whined from across the room, pouting dramatically. "Can you please keep that demonic bird from battering the rest of us?"
"(Owl Name), can you promise not to hurt them, please?" you asked, turning your head to pet his chest.
Tom smoothly took the owl off your shoulder, holding him securely so you could slide off his lap. You scrambled over to the bed where Pansy was currently lounging and flopped down beside her.
Pansy immediately turned her head toward the bird, childishly sticking her tongue out at the fiercely guarded bird, before wrapping her arms around you and cuddling you tightly.
Masterlist
This was super hard i had no idea how to write this honestly LMAO
this also felt super long so i have no idea if i did it right i tried my best im actually not super happy with the results but with my skills right now in terms of writing i think this was good
i didnt follow the previous format i had on writing where its each character because i feel like it'd be repeating with how the bird will hate on the guys and blah blah
i was gonna make it those things where the owl would pretend to get hurt by them but i dont think you'd fall for it
i also didnt make the owl fully accept them yet because one does not just change quick but at least he's not as bad anymore (i might add him in the actual story because of an idea i got so im glad)
i hope you enjoyed it and i LOVE LOVE LOVE getting requests please dont hesitate
i want to add a bit more side quests before i dive deeper on the main story too because the following chapters would be the story getting a bit more serious and i kinda want to develop and show a bit more of the relationships of the group
anyways i had fun i hope even if this was too long you did too ily all thanks for your supprt!!
-Y/N L/N accidentally gets invited in a group chat
Chapter 13: Not so normal normal
"You know, princess, I think it's high time you took your mind off things," Lorenzo murmurs, gently pinching your cheek.
Snapping back to reality brings you to a sudden realization. You're sitting in the library, and Lorenzo is across from you, offering a soft, pitying smile.
Before you can answer, he stands up, slides into the vacant seat right next to you, and pulls you close against his side.
"Since the whole Heather business, things have been entirely different between us all," he notes quietly.
"I know... everyone’s gone completely overprotective," you sigh, biting your lower lip. And then there’s the looming fact that Voldemort is actively hunting me down, but that’s a story for another day, you think miserably. "I just miss how carefree and happy we used to be. Now I feel like I'm constantly causing problems that you lot have to clean up."
"Honestly, I wouldn't blame you if you found it completely suffocating being around us," he lets out a dry, breathless laugh. You lift your head from his shoulder to look at him. "Ever since you met us, it's been nothing but trouble, hasn't it? We do nothing but loom over you, and the second we turn our backs, you're getting bullied by the rest of the school."
"But I like being with you lot," you press, looking him dead in the eye. "I'm happy that I became a part of your world."
"Yeah, well... you were perfectly happy before we dragged you into it, too," Lorenzo replies softly, his eyes dropping. "At least back then, you were just... normal."
"I'd much rather be abnormal with you guys," you say, a genuine smile finally breaking through. "I just wish we could go back to the way we were..."
Lorenzo stares at you for a beat, a sudden spark returning to his eyes. He stands up abruptly, taking your hand firmly in his and yanking you out of your chair.
"Right then. Your wish is my absolute command," he grins.
Dodging a thoroughly murderous glare from Madam Pince, he drags you past the heavy oak doors, and the very moment you clear the library, he breaks into a full sprint down the corridor, pulling you right along with him.
You let out a bright laugh as Lorenzo ruthlessly shoves Theodore off your lap, sending him tumbling onto the floor of the dormitory with a loud, dramatic thud.
Spending the entire day with Lorenzo was exactly what you needed. Just pure, unadulterated fun with your friends. No terrifying power trips from Tom, no dark wizards trying to murder you—nothing but laughter.
But as the laughter fades, you glance toward the window. "Has anyone checked on the others? It's pitch black out already and none of them have come back."
"They haven't even checked in on us," Theo mutters from the floor, dusting off his trousers. "Not even Pansy. It's weird."
A cold prickle of unease hits you. Hurrying over to your trunk, you pull out your phone to check for messages. The group chat is completely dead. Not a single message from anyone.
"They're never usually this quiet..." you frown, tracing the blank page.
Looking up, you catch Theodore staring down at his own phone, a deeply conflicted, strained expression on his face. He bites his lip, taking a sharp, heavy breath before quickly lifting his head. The moment his eyes meet yours, he forces a bright smile, acting as if nothing is wrong.
"Should we go look for them, then?" he asks, his voice a little too casual.
"Theo, are you alright?" you ask softly.
"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"
Lorenzo slides up, grabbing both of your sleeves. "Come on. Let's go track them down."
"Actually, I think we should split up," Theo interrupts quickly, his posture stiffening. "YN should head straight back to her own dorms. We don't want you getting caught out or running into trouble right now."
Both you and Lorenzo stare at him, completely bewildered.
"I just... think we should cover more ground," Theo mutters, his eyes darting away.
Lorenzo shoots Theodore a long, calculating look before turning to you and firmly taking your hand. "Right. Come on, YN. Let's get you back to the Hufflepuff basement."
"What? But I want to help search!" you protest, pulling back. "I'm worried about them too!"
The argument is cut short the moment Lorenzo swings open the common room door. Standing right there in the dimly lit corridor is Professor Snape, with a thoroughly tense Mattheo Riddle right behind him.
Snape looks down at you, his lip curling into a low, dangerous sneer. "Fifty points from Hufflepuff. What, pray tell, do you think you are doing lurking inside the Slytherin quarters, Miss LN?"
"I—"
Mattheo steps forward immediately, placing himself squarely between Snape and the rest of you. "My brother asked her to come here."
"Your brother does not dictate the rules of this castle, Riddle," Snape silkily counters, towering over him and glaring the boy down with terrifying intensity. "Three weeks' detention, Miss LN. The rest of you—inside. Now."
"Wait, Professor, curfew hasn't even hit yet," Lorenzo argues, stepping up next to Mattheo. "Let me at least walk her to—"
"Inside. Now," Snape barks, his voice cutting like ice. "Malignant behavior will not be tolerated. Miss LN, return to your house immediately."
Mattheo and Lorenzo exchange a highly troubled, frantic glance, looking past Snape's shoulder at just how eerily empty and dead the dungeons look tonight.
"But Professor, she's already been targeted once," Mattheo presses, his hand twitching near his wand. "It's dangerous for her to walk alone—"
"I shall not be repeating myself, Mr. Riddle," Snape growls, his black eyes flashing dangerously.
Lorenzo looks from you to Snape, then back to Mattheo, who looks entirely thrown off by Snape's unyielding, aggressive urgency. Something is deeply wrong.
Realizing you have absolutely no choice, you give the boys what you hope is a reassuring nod and take a step back into the corridor. Snape ruthlessly shoves the two Slytherins back through the threshold, the heavy stone door slamming shut behind them.
Suddenly, you are completely alone, walking through the pitch-black, suffocating silence of the dungeons.
Here is the fully polished version of your high-stakes encounter:
Your heart hammers violently against your ribs as you hurry toward your common room, your eyes darting frantically into every dark alcove.
Raising your wand with a trembling hand, you mutter a protective charm over yourself, but the shimmering barrier does absolutely nothing to soothe your frayed nerves.
And then, as if your sheer panic had manifested it into reality, a jet of light streaks through the dark and hits you dead-on. Thankfully, your shield holds, absorbing the blow with a sharp crack.
Without thinking, you fire a jinx back in the direction of the flash and break into a frantic run. But before you can even clear the corridor, another spell clips your shoulder, sending you stumbling.
Suddenly, a rough hand yanks you backward, dragging you forcefully into an empty room. A palm slams over your mouth, stifling your scream, while another hand clamps over your eyes, plunging you into total darkness.
You thrash wildly against the hold, kicking and clawing, but it's entirely to no avail. A wet, wheezing breath brushes against your ear, and the blood instantly drains from your face.
"Shut up, Hufflepuff," a high-pitched, giggling voice wheezes in the dark. "You're the girl, aren't you? The little nuisance who's ruining all the plans?" A chilling, breathless laugh rattles in his chest. "Oh, how the Dark Lord will praise me for this achievement..."
You flinch as his fingers graze the sensitive skin of your neck. They feel horribly stubby and thick, the tips blunt and rough like claws, with dirty, overgrown fingernails that scratch against your skin. Worse still is the texture—they are uncomfortably clammy, slick with a sickening sweat that leaves you feeling utterly violated.
Help me, please, someone help me, you pray desperately to yourself, tears pricking your eyes.
"RIGHT IN HERE!" a familiar voice roars from the corridor.
"Damnit!" the man spits.
In a split second, the oppressive weight on you vanishes into thin air, as if he had disappeared into the very stone. The heavy door swings open with a loud thud, flooding the room with torchlight.
"Harry..." you sob, collapsing slightly. He is standing in the doorway, panting heavily, his eyes wild as he tightly grips a large sheet of blank-looking parchment.
"YN!" Pansy shrieks, rushing past him. She throws her arms around you, pulling back a second later to frantically check your face and arms for injuries. "Merlin's beard, are you alright?"
Blaise is right on her heels, his usual calm demeanor completely gone as he stares at you with deep, protective worry. "Did you see who it was? Did you catch a face?"
You merely shake your head, trembling too hard to speak.
"It's alright, you're safe now. We've got you," Pansy soothes, pulling your head onto her shoulder.
Across the room, Harry’s eyes are glued to the parchment in his hands, his brow furrowed in utter bewilderment as he scans the ink lines.
"The name right next to yours was Peter Pettigrew," Harry mutters, looking up at the empty corners of the room. "I... I see that name all the time in the Gryffindor tower. It makes no sense. I don't see anyone else in here, but the map still says he's standing right here."
"Potter... thank you," you manage to mumble through your tears.
Harry looks down at you, his expression heavy with a fierce, protective gravity. "Just stay safe, alright? I mean it, YN. You are incredibly important in all of this. It's exactly why they're so bloody keen on getting rid of you. Please, just be careful."
Previous | Masterlist | Next
I accidentally uploaded two chapters instead of a chapter because of a lag enjoy the chapters LMAO
I do have a side quest to be uploaded again
I wont upload another chapter until i finish writing 4 chapters ahead (i have 3 so far) so it might take a while since I'm not sure how to write the next
I hope to upload more side quests before this so please do send me request because i think after this chapter would be a lot of serious story stuff rather than relationship development
Hii, idk if you’re taking requests or not, but if you are; could you write a fic where ‘What’s wrong with the Slytherins’ puffy is upset about something and she’s uncharacteristically mad, and how the Slytherins or her other friends would react? If you don’t write this I totally understand, thank you!
What's Wrong With The Slytherins?
Slyterin Gang X Reader
-Uh oh someone did an oopsie
Side Quest 1: An Angry Puffy
Draco Malfoy
Studying for your class had never been harder. You were on the verge of failing the class entirely, and it really didn’t help that Draco was sitting right beside you, constantly taking loud, snide jabs at Potter.
"Oi, Potter," Draco sneered, leaning across the aisle just enough for his voice to carry. "Surprised you managed to find the classroom without Granger holding your hand. Or did you get lost on the stairs again?"
Harry snapped, turning around in his seat with a scowl. "Shut your mouth, Malfoy. At least I don't need my father to buy my way into every room I walk into."
"Watch your tone, Potter," Draco hissed, his grey eyes narrowing. "You think you're untouchable just because the Daily Prophet treats you like some sort of tragic hero? You're a menace."
"And you're a pathetic git," Harry shot back, his knuckles turning white around his quill.
"Can you all just pipe down?!" you snapped, finally hitting your limit. You glared fiercely at the two of them. "Are we not in here for our class?"
Harry instantly looked struck, a flash of guilt crossing his face as he looked away. Draco, however, just stared at you, his mouth agape in sheer shock that someone had actually dared to talk down to him.
You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache brewing.
The professor strode into the room not long after, forcing the class to finally settle down. Still, the ambient whispering didn't stop. Eyes kept darting your way, the rest of the students completely staggered by your sheer audacity to yell at two of the school's most notorious boys.
With an irritated scowl, you furiously scribbled notes, pressing down so hard you nearly snapped the nib of your quill. Your neck was stiff and aching from constantly jerking your head back and forth between the blackboard and your parchment, trying desperately to catch up on everything you'd missed during the row.
The moment the bell rang to signal the end of the lesson, you packed up your things with unnecessary force. Before leaving, you threw a blistering glare at the two boys. Deep down, you knew your grades weren't entirely their fault, but right now, you blamed them completely. You were thoroughly vexed. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you stormed out of the classroom without a single word, your boots clicking loudly against the stone floor as you stomped down the corridor.
he's uncomfortable because he's not used to being in trouble
has no idea what to do when you give him a bad look much more raise your voice
he's not the type to apologize
he gives gifts instead
he will keep giving gifts about whatever you got mad about and talk to you more until you forgive him
Blaise Zabini
A sharp knock sounded at your door, and you knew instantly who it was.
The moment you swung the door open, Blaise strode right past you into your room. Without a word of explanation, he snatched up the parchment and essays you had been working on from your desk, turned around, and scooped you clean off your feet.
"W-what on earth—Blaise! Put me down this instant!" you cried, kicking your legs and struggling against his chest.
"I am incredibly sorry I didn't send a message about the extra Quidditch practice," Blaise murmured smoothly, effortlessly carrying you out into the corridor. "Tell you what—I’ll look over the research and help you finish the essay over at the Three Broomsticks. My treat, completely."
You stopped thrashing against him, though your arms remained tightly crossed over your chest, a deep scowl firmly fixed on your face.
"I truly didn't mean to stand you up, love," Blaise added, his voice dropping to a softer, reassuring tone as he looked down at you. "I'll do the rest of paper work, and whatever else you need me to do to make it up to you."
"I am going to order absolutely everything on the menu while you do that entire essay by yourself," you threatened, huffing as you gave his back a firm, reprimanding swat. "And you are paying every single Knut of my tab."
"Yes, ma'am," Blaise chuckled, a brilliant, lazy smirk flashing across his handsome face as he finally set your feet back down on the stone floor.
He's the most normal
doesnt need theatrics for forgiveness he knows you and he knows you care about everyone you'd forgive them if they're sincere
he knows how to handle you and can handle you
he had an excuse to take you on a date and took it
he felt bad you worked on majority of the paper that will cost both your grades him treating you out was not his theatrics
Theodore Nott
A series of hurried, frantic knocks echoed through your dormitory. You frowned, knowing exactly who it was before you even crossed the room.
Stomping over to the door, you wrenched it open and glared fiercely at Theodore Nott.
"What do you want?" you demanded, crossing your arms.
Theo cleared his throat, adjusting his robes before giving you a remarkably grand, sweeping bow. "I am well aware of how much you adore the Muggle world and their peculiar culture. Therefore, I have taken inspiration from their finest customs to formulate my apology."
You blinked, utterly baffled as to why he was bringing up such a random fact at your doorstep.
"Muffliato! " Theo cast quickly, pointing his wand at the corridor to ensure privacy. He then snapped his fingers. "Enzo, hit it!"
Lorenzo Berkshire strolled out from around the corner, hoisting an enormous, clunky Muggle boombox onto his shoulder while peering through the viewfinder of a video camera. A loud, incredibly cheesy Muggle pop song about saying sorry began to blast from the speakers.
Right there in the middle of the corridor, Theodore began to dance. You had absolutely no idea how he had conceived this ridiculous plan, or where on earth he had learned those absurd steps, but his straight-faced seriousness made it ten times worse.
A burst of laughter escaped your lips; you couldn't hold it back if you tried.
"Theo, stop it!" you giggled, leaning against the doorframe.
With a dramatic flourish, Theo dropped to his knees, bowing his head sharply and raising his hands above him like a defeated knight offering a trophy. Resting in his palms was your barrette.
"Reparo wasn't working on the clasp—I reckon there's some sort of stubborn charm on it," Theo explained from the floor, completely breathless. "But I learned how Muggles fix these things manually, with a bit of wire and sheer willpower. I fixed it myself. Look, I truly am sorry for messing about with your things and breaking it."
You took the repaired barrette from his hands, the lingering annoyance completely melting away. You smiled down at him. "Come on, then. Put it in my hair?"
Theodore beamed, his eyes lighting up as he scrambled excitedly to his feet. He took the clip, gently securing it back into your hair with surprising care.
Once he was finished, he reached into his robes, pulled out a heavy velvet pouch—which clinked loudly with what you assumed were Galleons—and tossed it over to Lorenzo.
Enzo caught the pouch with a grin, lowering the camera. "Brilliant," he smirked, turning on his heel. "I'm off to show this video to the entire common room."
he's scared but not of you more like what you might do (ignore him, cut him off, blah blah)
He thinks muggles are your favorite culture (it is you tell him about everything you find out about them)
he is always over the top with his apologies because he doesnt know how
he learned his apologies from rom coms you watched together
he was supposed to serenade you like the movies but he recently watched a dancing movie with you and chose to dance instead
Theodore and Lorenzo usually bribe each other for favors
he's very childish with his apologies
he may or may not just want to make you laugh
Tom Riddle
The corridor was nearly deserted, save for two students whispering at the far end, when you spotted Tom standing before a glass display trophy cabinet.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle III!" you shouted, your voice echoing off the stone walls as you marched fiercely toward him, completely ignoring the middle name he despised.
A terrifying aura seemed to shift around him as he turned. His glare was sharp enough to cut glass, but the moment his eyes landed on you, his murderous expression faltered, twisting instead into sheer, irritated confusion.
"YN," he replied coldly, slipping his hands into his robes pockets.
"We had a deal! No secrets!" you fumed, stopping right in front of him, your chest heaving with anger. "Why on earth did you hide the fact that you’re still meeting with them? With those... You know what. You swear blind that you're just studying, and then I find out you're sneaking off into the dungeons to play dark lord with your father's little cult! You look me in the eye and lie to me, Tom, and I am absolutely sick of it! Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? How reckless?"
Tom didn't utter a single sound. He didn't blink. He simply stared down his nose at you, his face a flawless mask of detachment. Then, without a word of defense, he stepped to the side, brushed past you, and began to walk away, leaving you completely baffled.
"What on earth? Tom!" you cried out, spinning around.
Tom paused. He turned his head slightly, his dark eyes flashing with the coldest glare you had ever seen—at least, the coldest he had ever directed at you.
"You do not yell at me. Especially not in public," he said, his tone quiet, precise, and utterly lethal. "If you intend to continue making a scene and throwing an emotional tantrum, I shall remove myself from the situation. When you have calmed yourself down, you may message me. Until then, do not follow me."
He turned on his heel and walked away, his dark robes billowing slightly behind him.
never raise your voice at him
he's pissed off
you can't scold or get mad at him
he's the type to walk out and not talk to you when you're mad
not because he doesn't respect you its just he thinks he will say (or worse do) something bad if he gets mad at you
will try his best to calm down when youre mad at him
he will approach you when you want to talk calmly rather than enraged
he will make the first move always because he knows he shouldn't walk out but he just hates heat of the moment arguments
he will message you every 30 minutes asking if you've calmed down or if you're ready to talk
will be more affectionate when you're calmer because he knows he shouldn't have walked away
Mattheo Riddle
"Mattheo! I told you to stop it with the bloody fights!" you cried, your voice echoing sharply down the deserted corridor. "Are you actively trying to get expelled?! Do my words just mean absolutely nothing to you anymore? You—"
Your voice fell short, the words dying in your throat as Mattheo stepped forward with terrifying speed. His hand slammed against the cold stone wall right beside your ear, the force of it pinning you completely in place.
"Can you perhaps not yell at me, gorgeous?" he murmured. A slow, lazy smile spread across his handsome face, but there was a brilliant, dangerous glint in his dark eyes that made your chest tighten with adrenaline.
Your breath caught completely.
His expression softened, just a fraction, as he reached up to gently twine a strand of your hair around his fingers, leaning down to press a lingering kiss against the crown of your head. "I am sorry about the row," he whispered, his rough voice sending a shiver down your spine. "But the gits pissed me off. They were speaking about you."
Slowly, he reached down and took your hand, guiding your palm up until it was pressed flat against his cheek, leaning into your touch like a man starved. "Don't look at me like that, baby. I'm sorry. Don't be frightened of me."
Hearing the slight, hidden desperation in his voice, you let out a long, defeated sigh, your tense shoulders finally beginning to relax against the wall.
"Stop getting into fights," you muttered, throwing a firm, warning glare up at him, though the anger had mostly melted away.
Mattheo turned his head slightly, pressing a soft, reverent kiss into the palm of your hand before nodding. His dark eyes locked onto yours, full of a fierce, unhinged devotion.
"Anything my darling wishes, I shall fulfill," he promised smoothly.
For now, at least.
doesnt like being yelled at
He's literally Tom but barely restrained
when he realizes youre scared he becomes more affectionate (but kinda comes off possessive)
he tries but fails to keep his emotions in check
he's actually sorry about this he hates getting you upset but he never had to deal with caring about whether someone is upset so he doesnt know how to deal with it
he will repeat it again yes but he will try his best to avoid it
riddles are not green flags in these moments
Lorenzo Berkshire
"Lorenzo Ber—"
Before you could even finish shouting his full name across the boys' dormitory, Lorenzo dropped straight to his knees right in front of you, snatching your hand in his.
"I apologize unreservedly for everything and anything wrong I have ever done," he pleaded, looking up at you with wide, desperate eyes. "Please forgive my utter impudence, princess. I meant absolutely no ill by my actions—I wouldn’t dare dream of upsetting you!"
Before you could even process his sudden theatrics, Theodore slipped up behind you. He placed his hands on your shoulders and began to massage them, trying to knead away your tension.
"Whatever’s gone wrong, it definitely wasn’t Enzo’s fault, pretty girl," Theo chimed in smoothly, his voice a soothing purr. "Just look at him. He’s completely pitiful right now, isn’t he? Does that face look like it belongs to someone who would willingly cause you a moment's grief?"
You looked down, utterly bewildered. True to Theo's words, Lorenzo was staring up at you with a remarkably convincing expression of pure, tragic regret.
"You don't even know what—"
"You stormed in here ready to use his full government name," Blaise scoffed from across the room. He was lounging back in an armchair, smirking as he watched the spectacle unfold. "All that git needs to know is that you're cross with him, and he instantly reverts into a groveling puppy."
"It’s true!" Lorenzo insisted, squeezing your hand tightly. "I am a humbled servant at your mercy, Y/N. If I’ve ruined your day, I shall never forgive myself. Tell me how to make amends! Do you want me to nick some tarts from the kitchens? Prank a Gryffindor?"
"See? He’s willing to risk detention for life just to see you smile," Theo added, his hands still working on your shoulders as he leaned in close. "Cut the bloke some slack, yeah? He’s practically trembling."
You let out a loud, defeated groan, finally giving up. Shrugging Theo’s hands off your shoulders, you yanked your hand away from Lorenzo and pulled him back up to his feet. Exhausted by their absolute nonsense, you threw yourself backward, crashing onto his neatly made four-poster bed.
"Never mind," you muttered into the mattress.
he never lets you get upset
hed beg for forgiveness before you could even let him know you were
Lorenzo gave Theodore a few galleons when you crashed to his bed
he was sincere with his apologies and so was his groveling puppy bit
Pansy Parkinson
Walking back to your dormitory after the final lesson of the day, you froze. Someone was slumped against the stone wall right next to your door, their face buried deeply in a bundle of black cloth that they were clutching like a lifeline.
They must have caught the sound of your approaching footsteps, because they slowly lifted their head.
It was Pansy. Your breath hitched. Her eyes and the tip of her nose were a raw, angry red, and her lips trembled the moment she saw you. Her grip on the fabric—which you now realized was your spare school robes—tightened until her knuckles turned white.
You were still deeply upset with her, but seeing her look so utterly broken made your stomach twist. A conflicted wave of emotion washed over you.
"Y/N..." she whimpered, her voice cracking. "I’m so sorry..."
She wasn't actively crying anymore. Looking at how flushed and puffy her face was, it looked as though she had simply cried herself completely dry before you arrived.
With shaking hands, she reached upward, holding out your robes to you like a peace offering.
"I'm so sorry, please don't hate me," she sniffled, her usual proud voice reduced to a desperate plea. "I'll stay away from your things. I won't even come near your room, I swear it! Just... please don't hate me. Don't stop being my friend..."
You let out a long, defeated sigh, the last of your anger evaporating. You took the robes from her hands and reached down, gently pulling her up from the cold stone floor.
"I wouldn't stop being your friend over something like this, Pans. Don't be daft," you cooed softly, wrapping your arms around her and pulling her into a tight hug. "We're alright. I promise."
"I'm so sorry," she mumbled against your shoulder, burying her face into your neck.
You held her close, pressing a comforting kiss to her temple. "We're okay. Come on, let's get you inside out of the corridor."
She was scared
she tried approaching you in your class but got scared
she saw how you were smiling and she thought youd never do that around her anymore because of what she did
she confided to blaise and draco (who scared her saying you hate her making her cry on the way to your dorm)
you're her only friend (in her mind she thinks the others were just because of their family connections) so she was absolutely scared of losing you
Masterlist
Hiii I wasnt expecting a request I got so excited about it I hope it was what you're looking for
I didn't know how to do it. i was going to do a more written version to show how angry you actually were but it was gonna get repetitive and feel too long if they were all written so i had some text
I added some personal notes on the end of each to tell more about how they are
the Riddles were my favorite to write because i like the idea I had of them I was gonna write Tom worse but I felt like he'd be more composed with my story
Side Quests are only for requests I dont think I'd write any on my own so if you liked these you can send an ask or a message or whatever I'm down for request i love getting interactions from you guys <3
-Y/N L/N accidentally gets invited in a group chat
Chapter 11: Riddle Me This
"Bloody hell, where on earth is Potter?!" Draco growled, scanning the drafty corridor. "Couldn't he be any more specific with his directions? Honestly, for someone who was practically begging to speak with you..."
You wrap your arms around Draco’s sleeve, dragging him forward. "Less whining, more searching. Come on, Dray—you're the one who insisted on tagging along, so now you're stuck."
Draco let out a miserable groan but started marching. It didn't take long to find Harry, though; after you had sent him a quick message asking where on earth he was, he managed to spot the two of you first.
"YN. Malfoy," Harry greeted, slipping out from the shadows.
"Potter," Draco hissed, his hand instantly twitching toward his wand pocket.
Harry rolled his eyes, turning his back on Draco to address you. "Thank you for coming. We need to move quickly before anyone spots us."
Before you could answer, Harry grabbed your hand and pulled you forward. You instinctively grabbed Draco’s arm, yanking him right along with you.
"W-wait, where are we go—Harry?"
"Shh!" Harry suddenly hissed, throwing his arm out to pull you and Draco back into the shadow of a stone archway. He had clearly spotted someone just a little further down the hall.
"Is that—" Draco started, but the words died in his throat.
"Mr. Riddle!" a voice echoed down the corridor—smooth, drawn-out, and thoroughly aristocratic.
"Tom?" you muttered, your brow furrowing.
"Father?" Draco breathed at the exact same time, his entire body going rigid.
"Mr. Lucius Malfoy," Tom replied. His voice was entirely devoid of warmth.
"Please, Lucius is perfectly fine," Lucius replied with a smooth, patronizing chuckle. "You are a close friend of my son's; I may as well consider you family."
Tom offered a tight, empty smile, giving a single nod. "Then Tom will suffice for me as well. 'Riddle' could easily stand for my brother, after all."
"Of course, of course. I'm immensely glad you made time to join us today, Tom," Lucius said, stepping closer to place a hand on Tom's shoulder.
Tom’s eyes dropped immediately to the hand on his robes, his expression darkening with immense displeasure.
"I was the one to call this meeting, in fact." Tom shifted his stance deliberately, causing Lucius's hand to slide off his shoulder. "And last I checked, the arrangements were meant to take place far from this sector. What, pray tell, are you doing here?"
"Well, I was actually on my way to fetch my son to join us. It is high time he takes his place. It's quite perfect, really, considering you will be there leading it, my Lor—"
"Do. Not. Speak," Tom commanded lowly.
The sheer, suffocating power in his voice made the air in the corridor feel instantly heavier. It was nothing like the Tom you knew back in your room. It was terrifying.
"You do not simply invite whoever you wish to these proceedings," Tom continued, his voice dangerously calm as he stepped into Lucius's space. "And I don't care if he is your flesh and blood—you do not indoctrinate anyone into our purpose without my explicit approval first. What would you have done if I deemed your son a liability? If I decided he had no place on my side? He already knows too much. Tell me, Lucius... would you have murdered your own kin to keep our secrets?"
Lucius went entirely pale, staring up at the teenage boy who was completely towering over him. The piercing, merciless gaze fixed upon him made the older man look incredibly small. In that fleeting second, Lucius seemed to violently remember exactly who he was speaking to.
"Yes... my Lord. I apologize," Lucius replied, his voice distinctly shaking.
"Go to the meeting room. Now."
Lucius gave a stiff, hurried bow and turned on his heel, retreating rapidly in the opposite direction. Beside you, Draco was trembling, his fingers digging into your thigh with a white-knuckled, terrified grip.
Tom watched the space where Lucius had disappeared for a long, quiet moment. Once he was sure the man was gone, his rigid posture collapsed slightly. He sank against the stone wall, exhaling a heavy, ragged breath he seemed to have been holding the entire time.
Reaching into his robes, he pulled out a phone.
"Mattheo." A tense pause. "I'm fine. Why on earth would you need to worry about me? Just attend your classes; where I go is of no importance to you." Another heavy pause. Tom suddenly straightened up, his eyes flashing with renewed fury as he glared down the empty hall. "I... I'll look for them. If she's with Draco, she'll be perfectly fine... Right. I'll join you lot shortly."
He cut the connection, his fist curling so tightly around the frame of the mirror you were amazed the glass didn't shatter into pieces. Without another word, he spun around and rushed off, tracking the exact path Lucius had taken.
The moment Tom’s footsteps fade entirely into the distance, Harry lunges forward, seizing your hand and dragging both you and Draco into the empty room, slamming the heavy oak door shut behind you.
"What the absolute hell was that?!" you burst out, your voice trembling as the adrenaline hits.
"That was... that was my father..." Draco whispers, staring blankly at the wood of the door you had just passed through. His voice is hollow, completely stripped of its usual malice. "Why on earth was Tom speaking to him like that? Why was he..."
"That..." Harry starts, his chest heaving as he looks between the two of you. "That is the exact reason I desperately needed to speak with you, YN. I don't know what the Riddle brothers' true position in all of this is just yet... but I know I have to tell you what I've seen."
You look at Harry, a cold, heavy knot of worry and genuine fear twisting in your stomach. Draco turns his gaze toward him too, and for the first time since you’ve known them, there isn't a single hint of hatred or rivalry in his gray eyes.
You are both entirely, utterly lost. And completely terrified.
-Y/N L/N accidentally gets invited in a group chat
Chapter 10: Brave Potter is a Dead Potter
"Cedric, can I borrow YN for a bit?"
You snap your head up. To your absolute shock, standing right there is none other than the Golden Boy of Hogwarts.
The moment the words leave his mouth, the ambient noise in the room drops noticeably. Nearby conversations fizzle out, and you can practically feel dozens of eyes boring into your back. The sudden hush is instantly replaced by a wave of hurried, low whispering from the surrounding students.
"Potter?" you ask, utterly throwing off your guard, acutely aware of the shifting glances around you.
He gives you a look you can't quite decipher—a tight, fleeting smile that doesn't reach his eyes, looking entirely unsure of himself and deeply conflicted under the sudden scrutiny of the crowd.
"Why?" Cedric asks, shifting slightly closer to you. While his tone is perfectly pleasant and devoid of open hostility, you can easily catch the undercurrent of worry in his voice.
"I just need to speak with her for a moment..." Harry says quietly, his eyes darting uncomfortably toward a group of Slytherins across the room who are already staring daggers.
"Harry, you know I consider you a bloody good friend, right?" Cedric says softly, lowering his voice to try and keep the gossiping onlookers from catching his words.
Harry nods, shifting his weight.
Cedric sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Then you must know for a fact that I can't let you do that."
"I swear I won't do anything," Harry presses, stepping forward, entirely ignoring the intense whispering that is now rippling through the room. "I'll keep her safe, I promise."
"Harry, safety isn't the issue here—it's you," Cedric murmurs, his voice dropping so low you can barely hear him over the background hum of the crowd. "Do you honestly have a death wish today? The Slytherin lot are crawling all over the place, and after the incident, they've been utterly feral protecting her. The absolute last thing they want is Harry Potter, of all people, hovering around their girl. Look around—everyone's bloody watching us."
Harry bites his lip nervously, darting a desperate, pleading look in your direction as if begging for backup.
You know for a fact Cedric is entirely right. The whispers are getting louder, and people are outright pointing now.
But... it's Harry Potter.
The Harry Potter wants to talk to you.
Maybe you could actually bond over... well, I don't know, maybe the shared experience of having dark curses thrown at you or something. Besides, curiosity is getting the better of you. Why does he need you now? You've been around the castle for ages, and he so desperately chose this exact moment to interact right in front of the entire school?
You turn to Cedric, giving him an uncertain, pleading glance.
"YN, the boys will castrate me if I leave you alone with him," Cedric groans under his breath. "They'll murder Harry, and then they'll come after me, quite frankly. The gossip columns will have a field day before dinner."
"I'll just hear him out," you whisper back. "I won't leave your sight, I promise!"
Cedric looks between you and Harry, completely torn, before letting out a defeated sigh. "Fine. But you have to cover for me if you get caught, otherwise I'm telling Athena you threw me straight under the Knight Bus. And you've got five minutes tops."
You flash Cedric a grateful smile as Harry gives him a sharp nod. Harry leads you a short distance away—not too far, just clear of the main crowd of the class, tucked into a quiet back corner. It's empty enough for privacy, but still firmly within Cedric's eyeshot. The eyes of the entire room follow your every step, the muttering reaching a fever pitch.
"Mind if I cast a spell? Just to keep the conversation to ourselves," Harry asks, pulling out his wand.
A knot of worry forms in your stomach, wondering why on earth such secrecy is required, but you nod anyway. Harry raises his wand and mutters, "Muffliato."
Looking around, you notice several heads turning away, irritated that they've been entirely blocked from eavesdropping on the school's newest scandal.
"YN..." he starts, his voice tense.
"Potter, what could possibly be so important that you had to risk this today?" you interrupt, keeping your voice low. You glance around, still feeling the heat of dozens of eyes staring at the two of you. "Couldn't you have done this when there are... I don't know, fewer people around?"
"You're never bloody alone," Harry counters desperately. "Today I finally managed to catch you without any of the Slytherins breathing down your neck, and I had to take the chance."
"What?"
"Are..." He mutters something under his breath, so quiet you can't catch it over the buzzing noise, before swallowing hard. "Are you alright with the Slytherins?"
You blink, completely taken aback and thoroughly confused by the question. "What?"
"The Slytherins... are they treating you fairly?"
Looking at his dead-pan, utterly serious expression, you can't help but let out a breathless, disbelief-filled laugh.
"Potter, I don't know what's got into you for you to be asking things like that, but I appreciate the worry. Really. I'm perfectly fine—they treat me brilliantly, and I'm happy."
Harry doesn't look convinced. "What about the Riddles? What's your relationship with them?"
A sudden, cold prickle of suspicion hits you, and your brows furrow deeply as you glare at him. "Excuse me?" you say, the offense clear in your tone.
"Tom Riddle and Mattheo Riddle," Harry presses, stepping closer. "How are they with you?"
"Potter, you better not be insinuating what I think you're insinuating," you snap, your voice rising as you get thoroughly worked up. "I'm not entertaining this for another second."
"YN, wait!"
Before you can spin on your heel, Harry reaches out and grabs your arm. You instantly lash out, tearing your arm back out of his grip and glaring daggers at him.
"I'm sorry! I don't mean any harm, I swear!" Harry pleads, throwing his hands up in a defensive gesture. "It's just—"
"Honestly, Potter, it's incredibly low of you to try and bring them up because of their heritage," you hiss, crossing your arms tightly. "I know how bloody awful your relationship with the Slytherins is, but—"
"Please, just hear me out! I swear I'm not doing that! Hear me—I had a dream!"
The words cut through your anger. You freeze, staring at him suspiciously, the accusations dying on your tongue.
Harry looks at you, keeping his hands raised slightly to his sides. "Right. Please, just listen to me, alright?"
You frown deeply in response but make no move to leave, which Harry takes as a silent green light.
"That day when Malfoy broke his arm during flying... I felt... I felt something completely off. Like a searing, stinging pain," Harry says, the words pouring out of him. "And a few days ago... I had another dream. I couldn't quite make out what it was, but something was absolutely furious, screaming about how you're—"
Harry is cut off instantly as a jet of light shatters the Muffliato charm.
With a deafening BANG, Harry is sent flying backward, crashing hard against the stone wall before collapsing onto the floor. Standing there, wand drawn and breathing heavily, is a thoroughly livid Draco Malfoy, flanked closely by Lorenzo and Pansy.
"What the hell do you think you're doing with her, Potter?" Draco spits, his gray eyes flashing with pure malice as he steps over the debris.
Pansy immediately swoops in, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you protectively behind her, while Lorenzo marches straight toward a very pale-faced Cedric.
"W-wait, I was just talking to him!" you protest, trying to look around Pansy's shoulder. "There's something—"
"Why on earth would you even speak to him?" Pansy asks, turning to look at you as if you'd completely lost your mind.
"You stay away from her," Draco growls, stepping directly into Harry's space and pointing his wand tip dead at Harry's throat.
"YN! If you want to hear the rest, just find me!" Harry chokes out, looking past Draco's shoulder just before the Slytherins circle around you and forcefully march you out of the room.
Hello, don’t normally do this but would you consider making a house ambiguous! Reader for a future story? I understand if no! It probably would be a hassle, but I think it’d bring in a wider set of readers. Please ignore this if you wish, I just wanted to share an idea, have a lovely day/night!
hii thank you for this suggestion but it depends on the story because sometimes they're important to the story like if i write the Walpurgis next they just would not work if youre any other house
the Mauraders one will be ambiguous with this suggestion in mind becuase i dont think its important to the story i was also debating what a good house should i write the reader as (so far thats the one im leaning on writing)
The slytherin one i have rn being a Hufflepuff is also part of the story
again thank you i love it when my readers interacts and suggests i appreciate feedbacks too ily all thank you!
