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very short writing, occasional fanart. you can find my longer fics at http://archiveofourown.org/users/VanillaMostly

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"Tonks sat in one of the seats and gazed at the boy’s lifeless body for a few moments. Then a mischievous smile spread across her face as she reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a scrunched brown hat. Shaking it to get rid of some of the larger wrinkles, it became apparent to the type of hat she was holding.

Placing it on her head with a flourish, she said to herself, “The game’s afoot.”"

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Murder on the Hogwarts Express by VioletGryffindor

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“Luna Lovegood looks up when he approaches her. She’s sitting barefoot and cross-legged in the grass, barely leaning against a small marble stone engraved with “Severus Snape” and “9 January 1960—2 May 1998.” There are red and blue flowers woven into her hair, and a wreath of what Harry thinks is baby’s breath on the crown her head. She is smiling that same gentle, carefree smile.”

Excerpt From

I Know Not, and I Cannot Know; Yet I Live and I Love

billowsandsmoke

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Cho Chang

ref: 周依然

my new favorite thing on procreate: gouache brush to paint, sketch pencil for details

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Ginny Weasley

(I love painting redheads. I'm just jealous. Wish I had red hair)

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and i'm back! kinda funny how i read these books a gazillion years ago but i always come back to the fandom

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Dean liked Ginny, he might have even loved her, but it doesn’t matter now does it? She’s with Harry now. She’s always had a thing for Harry. Did she ever even like Dean or was he just practice for the real stuff? It’s enough to make Dean punch the wall or something equally stupid, but Dean isn’t the sort to do that. He expresses his bitterness in other ways. Like holed up in a corner of the castle where no one can find him, staring out at the lake and half-heartedly doodling in his sketchbook.

“Hey Dean.”

Alright. One person can find him.

“Hey Seamus,” says Dean without looking up.

“Here,” says Seamus, shoving Dean a mug under his nose. Dean takes a sip and almost spurts it out his nose.

“How much rum d’you put in this?!” 

Seamus just grins as he plops down next to Dean and makes himself comfortable. Shaking his head, Dean thinks to himself that even if he loses all the Ginny’s in the world at least he’ll always have a Seamus.

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george weasley angst

Fred’s death wasn’t easy for any of them. Mum and Dad had lost a son. His siblings had lost a brother. Lee had lost a best friend. Angelina had lost a boyfriend. The world had lost Fred Weasley. But he, he had lost his other half, as they said, and George knew that was the reason why they’d given him some space.

They didn’t know though. They didn’t know his secret, the poison in the darkest pits of his mind, something he’d never let his own mind bloody touch, while sober anyway. This thought. This fucked up truth that-

It was always Fred and George, wasn’t it. Never George and Fred. Fred was the funnier one, the smarter one, the bolder one.

George, he loved his twin down to the bone he did, but oh you hypocrite sonofabitch, you wanted it, wanted out of Fred’s shadow so you could shine, didn’t you, DIDN’T YOU.

George brought the bottle to his lips and drank. Drank his punishment away.

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Randall’s fathers

William's been in... whatever this is, quiet state of peace, pleasant and calm that’s both real and surreal (it’s some form of afterlife, that’s as much as he knows)... for a little while, when he sees a figure walking towards him. It’s not his Ma. It’s not his Pa, not his wife, not any of his old friends. No, he thinks as the man comes up closer, it’s not anyone he’s ever known back in the living world.

He’s a handsome man, younger than William, in his prime William is sure but with hints of age in the lines around his eyes, dark curling hair and the warmest smile William has ever seen. This man, he exudes a kindness and trust that makes it hard for a stranger to be wary for long.

William thinks he knows who this man is, even before the man opens his mouth, because of a very important person in William’s life whom the man reminds him of.

“You must be Randall’s father,” the man said to him.

“You must be, too,” William told him.

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Real Arya meets Fake Arya

“Why were you pretending to be me,” demanded Arya.

Jeyne shuddered beneath the blankets, as if wanting to shrink as small as possible. “I… I had no choice. They were going to kill me…”

The Ironborn wench with the short dark hair and sharp eyes held out a placating hand. “I understand why you’d be angry, lady Wolf, but you should know that it was to no degree Jeyne’s fortune to take your place. I’d say the opposite; she saved you.”

Arya scoffed, tossing her head. “I don’t need to be saved.”

“Y-you would have,” said Jeyne. Tears spilled over her misshapen nose. “Anyone would need to be saved. F-from him.”

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guilt

“Why do you gotta be like that, Rose?” Albus demanded.

“What?” I snapped, refusing to look at him, my arms crossed. “Is there a reason I should be nice to Scorpius Malfoy, just because he’s your new best friend?”

Albus looked at me for a long time. “Well, for starters,” he said quietly, leaning to me, “his mum just died.”

It was like a stone dropped in my gut. “S-she did?”

Albus just gave me another damn long judging look, shouldered his book-bag, and walked away. I stared after him, looked down at my breakfast, and then laid down my fork.

Suddenly wasn’t so hungry anymore.

A continuum? of one of my really old fics which i will prob never revive, but... i always imagine this is how it goes now knowing Cursed Child

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sleep

He’s trapped in his nightmares but she’s the one who wakes him up now, her green eyes staring into his when he comes to, brimming with a concern he’s not used to. “I’m here, it’s ok,” she whispers to him and cradles his face in her arms like she is the mother and he is the child, even though she is the younger one. He clutches to her breast and his tears are his shame but she knows, she always seems to know and understand. What did he do to ever deserve her, he wonders, to deserve this? But he doesn’t ask, he just closes his eyes and inhales the scent of her skin and ever since the night he asked her to stay, his dreams shift from dark to peace, sweet and deep.