Summary: Fred Weasley x slytherin!reader -> A rivalry that has been going on for four years suddenly begins to change when you help Fred's little sister.
Disclaimer: Mentions of periods and womanhood. Rivals to friends to lovers, little bit of pining, Arthur loving muggles, jealousy, 'she's not you' trope, oblivious idiots.
It had all started when the youngest Weasley started school.
You were in your fourth year at the time, along with Fred and George – the Twin set of Weasley’s that caused more trouble for McGonnagall since the Marauders. And, even if you hadn’t been in their opposing House, you had a strong feeling your relationship with them would have been the same.
Pure annoyance turned to loathing.
Mostly the loathing was left for the eldest of the two. Fred Weasley. He’d been the bane of your existence since First year. He was disruptive, rude, loud and just plain annoying.
Though you couldn’t say the same for their youngest and only sister, Ginny.
“Stop!” You shouted to the three girls running through the hallways when they should have been inside their study groups at the library.
The three girls stopped and turned around quickly as you approached. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to run through the hallways-”
“But, you don’t understand-”
“Besides you should be in study groups-”
“It’s our friend!” One of them shouted.
Only then did you notice their rather panicked expressions as they looked between each other. From your judgements, one had been told not to say anything, the other didn’t want to hurt either friend and the other spoke up.
“What is it?”
The third one, a brown haired girl, knocked her lightly. “Shush. Ginny said not to tell.”
“But she might be able to help,” the blonde haired girl whispered.
From their house colours and the name Ginny, you knew exactly who they were talking about.
“What’s going on?” You asked.
“Sarah, don’t.”
Sarah looked between her friends before looking back at you. Then she gave in. “Ginny’s in the girl’s bathroom, crying. She said to go and get her brothers.”
“Why is she crying?”
She might have been a Weasley, but she’d never once acted out like her brothers. And you, too, had once been the first year crying in the bathroom.
“She’s…she’s started.”
You looked between the three girls.
“Started?”
They all nodded.
“Alright. Her brother’s won’t be much help with this.”
“But-”
You nodded. “Still go and get them. Fred and George should be inside the Great Hall. You,” you pointed to the quiet girl at the end. “Come with me. We’re gonna help Ginny.”
Five minutes later, you were inside the girl’s bathroom. You could hear the shaky sniffles of Ginny from the end cubicle.
“Guard the door. Wait for your friends.”
The young girl nodded, taking her role very seriously as she waited for her friends and Ginny’s brothers.
You knocked twice. “Ginny?”
“I-I…yes?”
“It’s Y/n,” you told her, your voice calm and soft. “I found your friends in the hallway.”
“I said not to tell anybody!”
“Don’t blame them,” you told her. “Blame me. I forced it out of them.”
“Where are my brothers?”
“They’re on their way, don’t worry. I figured you might want to talk to a girl first. We tend to know more about these things than boys do.”
You heard Ginny sniffle again. “I-I just felt it and I didn’t know what to do. My mum said it wouldn’t happen for another two years.”
“Well, sometimes these things don’t exactly go to plan. But it’s nothing to be scared of. It just means that for one week every month or so, you’re just able to eat as much ice cream as you want and can spend the entire weekend in bed.”
“Y-Yeah. My mum said…she said something about that.” The young girl sniffed again. “But…I don’t know what to do. It’s…I think it’s stained…”
You shook your head. “Don’t worry about that. It’ll wash right out. Do you have any pads?”
Ginny shook her head behind the door. “N-no.”
“No bother,” you said before pulling out your wand and laying your bag on the floor. “Accio.”
From the depths of your bag, a square tin came flying up. Catching it before it clattered onto the ground, you opened it up before passing her a pad under the door.
“It’s pretty easy to understand. Just open, peel and stick.” You explained just before you heard thundering footsteps.
“Ginny?!”
“Let him in, Orla,” you called out to the young girl by the door.
Rounding the corner, you saw Fred Weasley standing at the end of the cubicle hallway. “What are you doing here?”
“Helping. Give me your robes.”
“What?”
“Just do it.”
Pulling the long black robes from his body, revealing exactly what you expected to find – a messy uniform – you called back to Ginny.
“Ginny, your brother is here. I’m gonna hand you his robes. Just wrap them around yourself when you’re ready to come out.”
“What’s going on? The kids froze when I asked.”
“She’s started her period,” you whispered to him. “She’s a little scared, and probably in pain. Take this,” you said as you handed him your emergency period kit. “There are extra pads in there. If she starts in pain, send one of the girls to Madam Pomfry. She’ll get her some pain medication. And, if it gets really bad, a hot water bottle always helps with the cramps.”
“What?”
You sighed, “Fred, honestly. It’s natural. She’s earlier than she expected, but she’s going to be perfectly fine. You don’t need to do much besides be there for her if she wants you.”
“No, I know that. But…you helped her?”
You nodded. “You’ll be surprised to learn that girls help each other when it comes to these things, no matter the rivalries they have with their older siblings.”
Fred stood in shock as you packed up your things. “Ginny, I’m gonna leave you with your brother, but if you have any questions…feel free to come and find me.”
“O-okay. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Bidding Fred a silent goodbye, you took your leave and headed back towards the Great Hall, passing a slightly panicked George on the way.
“Down the hall and to the left. Fred is already there. Ginny is fine, just don’t make a loud fuss.”
George nodded. “Okay. Okay. Thank you.”
Even though you’d told Ginny to come and find you if she had any questions, you hadn’t actually expected her to. Quite frankly, you thought after you left, Fred might have scolded her into accepting your help, telling her you’re nothing more than a Parseltongue Slytherin.
Surprisingly, he didn’t. Or, maybe he did, but Ginny decided to make her own judgement.
You were walking out of your dormitory when you heard the end of Draco saying, “...filthy Weasley.”
“Draco!” You shouted as you spotted him standing at the door. “Find something more useful to do with your time before I send your mother a letter about your behaviour. No doubt she’ll send you back a howler.”
Draco turned pale and stalked away with his friends as you turned towards the door to find, “Ginny!”
“I-I’m sorry. I just…I’m sorry.”
She took off running in the opposite direction.
“Wait!” You called after her, leaving the Slytherin door to close itself. “Ginny, wait.”
Eventually, she stopped and turned around to face you. “I-”
But where maybe she had expected you to be mad at her, you just smiled warmly. “How about we go for a walk?”
Ginny nodded, falling into step beside you as you took her on the quieter walk through the school and towards the benches outside the courtyard. She asked you a million different questions, and you explained everything to the best of your ability.
How periods were different for everyone, pain could be small or it could be too much to handle. You explained the biology behind it and why sometimes she might feel angry for no reason, or sad for no reason. You also told her how it’s not something she should be embarrassed about, and if she ever is in need of some help, any girl in the bathroom will help…apart from Moaning Myrtle. Mostly because she’s a ghost and can’t do much.
“I asked Fred and George but they just…went quiet.”
“That’s a first.”
Ginny chuckled. “They’re not so bad. I mean…they tried. How come you know all about this stuff? There isn’t exactly a muggle biology class.”
“You’re right, there’s not. But, I went to a muggle school.”
“You’re a half-blood?”
You nodded. “My mum was in Ravenclaw when she was at school. Taught me everything I know.”
“Even about…this stuff?”
You nodded. “Not because she was a Ravenclaw, but because there was a chance she’d have a muggle daughter. If I wasn’t at Hogwarts, I’d be at an ordinary high school where they teach about it a little more than they do here.”
“Really?”
You nodded. “But just because you know, doesn’t mean you’re not scared. I got mine in my first year, too. But I didn’t have any friends or brothers to help me.”
“So what did you do?”
“Cried.” You answered honestly. “But once I stopped long enough to breathe, I started thinking resourcefully. If I was at muggle school, I’d be in the same predicament. It was no different here than there.”
Ginny nodded, listening to your every word.
“You’ll find it gets a little tedious eventually. But, you’ll also find it has its own superpowers. Like shutting your brothers up if they’re being far too annoying for you to put up with.”
Ginny giggled and looked out to the empty courtyard. “Thank you, Y/n. It’s nice to have a girl to talk to about this stuff. I have mum but I don’t exactly have sisters.”
You smiled. “If you ever need any help, just come and get me. Don’t be afraid, Ginny. And if Draco starts, just tell him to piss off. He wouldn’t admit it, but he’s more scared of his own shadow.”
Ginny laughed again before spotting her friends. She thanked you once more before running back to her friends, but not before she turned around and surprisingly hugged you, tight.
“Bye.”
Joining her friends, you sat back for a moment, taking in the quiet and the fact that Ginny had hugged you. You’d always wondered what it would have been like to have younger siblings to help. Was this the feeling? The…happiness?
But it didn’t last long, because barely thirty seconds later, Fred Weasley was jumping over the back of the bench and sitting beside you.
“Did I just see my sister hug you?”
You turned and looked at him. “What do you want, Weasley?”
“Whoa, hey, hold the hostility for a second. I just wanted to thank you. For helping Ginny yesterday. Like you said, we might have a rivalry of sorts, but…she’s my little sister and you helped her. So…thank you.”
You were slightly taken aback. In the four years you’d known Fred Weasley, not once had your words with him been calm ones. Let alone nice ones.
“Oh. Well…you’re welcome…I guess.”
“And not to sound like some ‘bone headed, misogynistic ass’ but…you should smile more.” Fred smiled. “Smiling suits you more than scowling. Have a nice day.”
For the first time, you’d heard real sincerity in Fred’s voice when he talked to you. And, quite frankly, you didn’t know how to react beyond stunned silence and the overthinking of, “What the hell does that mean?”.
Over the course of the year, more and more of those moments started happening between yourself and Fred Weasley.
First it was with Ginny, then it was with Snape’s potion class and essay; a Slytherin boy had accused him of cheating. But Fred had been stationed at your table the entire time. He hadn’t cheated once. He was…just really good at potions.
Then came the real change.
Throughout the year, more and more first and second years came to you for help. They wanted to actually know what was happening to them. So, after the tenth girl came up to you, you’d asked if you could hold a small talk for the girls after classes.
McGonnagall and Madam Pomfry agreed, even making some different and up-to-date pamphlets on the situation. But, the longer the talks were held, you found a few boys lingering outside the classroom.
At first, you and some of the other older years figured it was so they could snigger and mock the girls. That was, until one afternoon during set-up, you found Fred Weasley sat on one of the rows.
“What are you doing in here?” You didn’t give him a chance to respond, already feeling tired. “Look, if you’re here to take the piss-”
Fred stood, walking over to you. “I’m not here for that. I wanted to talk to you. About it.”
“About it?”
“This,” Fred gestured. “And about some of the boys. Look, I understand why this is for girls, but I was more in the dark than Ginny was when she started. And I know a lot of the guys in this school have younger sisters or even nieces. They wanna learn, too. They want to know how they can help. It’s not like we’re born with this information, and because we don’t have them, we’re not told about them. I think…I think that should change.”
You were shocked at Fred’s sentiment. But, deep down, you agreed with it.
“One boy takes the piss and-”
Fred smiled. “I’ll chuck him out, myself. You have my word.”
Your eyes narrowed at him as he held his hand over his heart, though there was no true malice in your glare. “That seems to be true the longer I know you, Weasley.”
“Told you,” Fred smiled. “I’m not all loud and reckless.”
“No, I guess not.” Your voice came out a little distant, as if your mind was making a decision far away from the situation. Then, rather abruptly, you said, “I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“I misjudged you. I still think you’re reckless…and have a tendency to be loud. But…you’re a good guy, Weasley. Even if you do still get on my nerves every now and again.”
The corners of Fred’s mouth turned up slightly as his own gaze flicked across your face. “Glad to hear it. Wouldn’t want everything to change between us.”
Ignoring the new change of energy between yourselves, you turned away and started laying out leaflets and pamphlets on the chairs, handing Fred half of your pile.
“Since you’re here, you might as well help.”
Over the week, more guys turned up to the talks. And Fred was true to his word. A third year boy found the entire thing too hilarious, pointing and snickering at the first year girls in the front row.
So, from the back of his collar, Fred, along with George, hoisted the boy from his chair and set him outside the classroom.
By the end of the week, and the final talk, Fred was pulled out early by McGonnagall. Though you didn’t know why, part of you felt…sad? Lost?
For a guy that had annoyed the hell out of you for four years, you were starting to feel something about not having him by your side or at least in your line of vision.
“Is everything okay?” You asked him, relieved to see him when he waltzed inside as you were stacking the chairs back.
But he just smiled and held out a letter. “It’s for you.”
“Why are you collecting my mail? You know in the muggle world, it’s illegal to open someone’s mail.”
“It’s illegal here, too.” Fred said. “But it came with my letters from home. And I haven’t opened it.”
“Who’s it from?”
“How would I know? I haven’t opened it.”
Turning it over and opening the wax seal, you unfolded the letter to find Mrs Weasley had written to you. First thanking you for taking care of her daughter, next for teaching her sons and then a final thank you for teaching other kids, too.
“How does she know?”
Fred shrugged. “Maybe Ginny told her or…” He struggled to find a new lie.
You watched Fred for a moment, then smiled. “Oh, my god.”
“What?”
You smiled, almost beaming. “You wrote to your mother about me?”
Fred flushed red. “W-what? No.” He tried to laugh it off, but you saw right through him.
“You wrote to your mother about me.”
“No, I-I didn’t.”
“Whatever you say, Weasley.”
Fred chuckled. “Alright, Y/l/n. No need to be so smug.”
You smiled down at the letter addressed from Molly Weasley. “Nobody’s ever written to their mother about me before. Bad or good.”
Fred felt something warm in his heart. He was proud to be the first.
“I think they’re still serving tea in the Great Hall,” Fred mentioned casually but quietly. “Want to get some?”
For the first time since knowing him, you didn’t have to overthink your answer.
“Sure. Love to.”
That night, a small part of your history…or maybe your future…changed. Fred Weasley not only became your friend, but he also became something more. Something that didn’t exactly have a label. Well, not yet at least. But it was there. The…feeling.
“You sure you’re okay?”
If a year ago, somebody had told you you’d be studying with Fred Weasley, for your OWLs, in the Gryffindor common room, you’d have said they were mad. Insane, even.
But it was true.
A year on from what turned out to be the Diary from Hell for Ginny and other not so dramatic but equally life-changing things, it was true.
You nodded, “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” Fred asked you again. “You look like somebody kicked you under the table in Potions today.”
“Felt like it,” you mumbled, trying to concentrate on your coursework.
You didn’t say much after that, but you did grow concerned a little when Fred stood up, also without a word. If he did something, he usually spoke about it first.
And he disappeared for seven whole minutes. Thankfully, a lot of the Gryffindors were used to finding you in their common room, knowing Fred wasn’t too far away. So if any came in, they wouldn’t question your presence.
“Here.”
Fred returned, suddenly, holding out a hot water bottle.
“It might help.”
With a relieved smile, you thanked him.
“Better?” He asked as he sat down.
“Much. Thank you.”
“Maybe you should go to Madam Pomfry. They’re getting worse.”
“I’m fine, Fred. Really.”
Fred just nodded, turning back to his own coursework. But when you gave up on trying to focus on your work, laying on the sofa behind Fred, you sighed.
“Can you tell what this says?”
Picking the piece of parchment from Fred’s hands, you recognised the writing right away. “Fred, this is your handwriting.”
“I know. Can you tell what it says?”
“How can you not know what you’ve written?”
“Please?”
You read it aloud. “Due to the increasing level of pain being experienced, I suggest the best course of action…Fred. I’m not going to Madam Pomfry.”
“It was worth a try. Just…promise me, if it gets worse, you’ll go. Or else I’ll drag you there myself.”
You laid a hand on his shoulder. “I promise.”
As the years went on, the friendship and whatever the unspoken thing was between both of you only seemed to grow until eventually you found yourself in a similar position, lay on one of the patchwork sofas in The Burrow.
“Fred, you really need to get neater with your handwriting,” you said as you turned the page upside down for the third time. “Even I can’t tell what this says.”
“Well…it’s not my fault.”
You gave him a deadpan look. “We all went to the same school. Even George’s handwriting is neater than this. I swear, you need to make up your own spell to figure out what this says.”
From the kitchen, Ginny stood beside her brother. “How long have they been like this?”
“Arguing? Years.” George answered. “Lay that close together? Hours.”
“Do you think they’ve figured it out yet?”
“Fred’s handwriting? If Y/n can’t figure it out, nobody can.”
Ginny sighed, hitting her brother. “Not that. The other thing?”
“That they’re hopelessly and forever bound together in the spell of unspoken love?” George asked as Ginny nodded. “No, not yet.”
Ginny groaned before moving on and heading up the stairs.
“For a guy that is running his own business, you should be able to read your own handwriting.”
Fred shrugged. “For someone that is able to run rings around some of the top lawyers in the Ministry, so should you.”
“Mum says ‘hi’ by the way,” you mentioned to Fred. “She says the papers for your new product should be ready for you to sign on Monday.”
“What time are you heading into the office?”
“Nine.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“Meet you outside of the shop at 8? I need to pick up an order at Flourish and Blotts.”
Fred nodded. “Great. We can grab breakfast if you’d like?”
“Yes,” you said. “But I’m picking the place this time. There’s somewhere I’d like to show you.”
“It’s not gonna be filled with stuffy, uptight lawyers is it?”
You chuckled. “No. Just stuffy, uptight muggle public.”
“Muggles?” Arthur popped his head around the corner. “Bloody love Muggles. All their inventions. A multi-coloured pen. Sensational.”
You smiled before turning to Fred who had the same expression on his face.
Since the very first time you’d met Arthur Weasley, he’d been enamoured with the information you held about Muggles. Apparently he’d met your father once, when he surprised your mother at the Ministry for their Anniversary.
“Fantastic chap,” Arthur had told you.
“Here,” you chuckled as you handed Fred his paper back. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
His eyes trailing after you and a light smile spread across his lips, your eyes locked with Fred’s as you climbed the stairs towards the bathroom. Only once you were out of earshot did George lean over the sofa and hit Fred on the back of the head.
“Oi,” he whispered. “When are you gonna tell her?”
“Tell her what?”
“That you want to marry her and have children with her and live out that fantasy dream of your own Burrow home with her.”
“Bugger off.”
“I’m being serious,” George whispered. “Besides, you’d make a great girl dad.”
“George. If she comes down here, she’s gonna freak out and start physically running back home.”
George just smiled. “That’s what you think. I think she’d run into you arms and-”
“She’s not that kind of girl.”
“Please, every girl is that girl.”
“Y/n’s different.”
“She loves you. And, you, my dear brother, love her, too.”
“George.”
“I don’t hear you denying it,” George sang as he walked away, just in time for you to come back down the stairs, fixing the clasp on the dungarees with random patchwork squares.
Playing Quidditch in the summer with the rest of the Weasley clan one year had resulted in lots of laughter and randomly torn holes in the dungarees you were wearing.
Now, they were patched back together with random pieces of fabric that, even when washed, still somehow smelled of the comforting scent of the Burrow on a fresh summer’s afternoon.
“Denying what?”
“Oh, just that Freddie here-”
“George.”
“Needs to go back to school. Fix that handwriting of his.”
By the time Monday rolled around, you were dragging Fred down a busy London street towards your favourite cafe. Despite it being one of London’s busiest times in the morning, the cafe was practically empty compared to those on Westminster Bridge.
“What can I get for you, dears?”
Placing in a double of your usual order, you left Fred to his own devices. Only, when you returned to him, handing over his to-go bag and tea, you found a woman standing in front of him.
She was flirting with him.
“Here you go,” you told Fred as you gave the stranger a rather withering look.
She smiled, perkily. “Hi, I was just saying to your friend here that he looked a little lost. I’d be more than happy to give him a small tour if you’re in a rush.”
“No,” you answered. “Not in a rush. And he’s not lost. He’s with me.”
“Oh,” she looked between both of you before asking, “Really? I’m sure you’re a nice person but…really? Wow.”
“Okay, we’re leaving.”
Taking Fred’s hand in yours, you practically dragged him out of the cafe. “What was that all about?”
“Nothing.”
“She was just trying to be nice.”
“She was flirting.”
“No, she-” Fred turned and looked at you. He knew the woman was flirting with him, she’d asked for his number. But Fred couldn’t think why you’d reacted so harshly. Until he looked at you, and it hit him.
“Oh, my god,” he chuckled. “You’re jealous.”
Your brows furrowed quickly. “I’m not jealous.”
Fred couldn’t help but laugh a little more. “You are insanely jealous. I already told her I don’t have a phone.”
“She asked for your number?!”
Fred smiled as you turned and looked at him, almost as if someone had tried to brand your heart.
“You-” You cleared your throat, trying to act normal. “Not that I care.”
As the street grew quiet and the red post box came into sight, Fred pulled you aside. “Hey, there’s no need to be jealous.”
“I’m not jealous.”
Fred just smiled. “I wouldn’t have said yes. Other than the fact that I thought she was rude, especially to you. She wasn’t…”
“She wasn’t what?”
Swallowing his pride, Fred finally spoke his truth. “She wasn’t you.”
It took a moment for you to register what Fred was actually saying. “Oh. Oh.”
Fred nodded.
“Well…I…”
“Look, you don’t have to answer it now. Or…ever. You’re my closest friend, and I don’t ever want that to change, and if this does so. Especially if it does so for the worst…I’d rather be by your side just the way we are. You know, if you didn’t…if you don’t…”
“I do.” The words fell out quicker than a golden snitch could fly. “I do. I just…wasn’t expecting it to happen on a pavement in London before…before our meeting.”
Fred felt himself smile. He hadn’t scared you off, so he was off to a good start.
“Can…can we talk about it after work?”
Fred nodded. He’d waited nearly five years. He could wait a few more hours.
“Of course.”
“Okay then.” For a moment, you continued walking with Fred walking behind you. But then you stopped and turned back. “Are you sure? About…about me?”
Fred nodded. “My feelings haven’t changed since fifth year. I doubt they’re gonna change now.”
“Okay.” You sounded a little more confident the second time, even though he could still hear your brain trying to process the whole thing. “Okay, then.”
“This really is a good cup of tea.”
“Told you.”
You could be normal for a couple of hours, acting like you usually did with Fred. Just before lunch, he had to head back to the shop and you kept working through some of the upcoming cases. Though, despite the boring case work, you couldn’t seem to wipe the smile from your face.
Fred felt the same.
And it was just a matter of time before that unspoken feeling you’d held for him for years, finally would have a name.
When you and Draco get into some small argument, Narcissa decides to knock some sense into her son. What? Did you really think she'd take anyone's side but yours?
CW! small couple fight, coarse language, Draco overcomes ego. Let me know if I missed anything!
This is a short one, but I love any fics with great Narcissa-reader relationships.
Masterlist
°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡
Narcissa Malfoy loves routines.
She loves pre-set tea-times and punctual gatherings. She loves the certainty it brings to such an uncertain existence. And she simply does not care if the snobbish pureblood ladies call her a rigid scheming bitch for it.
It’s just who she is.
So forgive her for the overwhelming concern that collects in her neck when you don’t show up that weekend. It’s practically a ritual–ever since you started dating Draco. Saturdays mean a day full of shopping and a luxurious evening dinner. Over the years, as you developed from the nervous girl Draco brought home, to his confident fiancée, she’d grown attached to it. In her mind so had you.
It must be serious if you missed it.
So, she storms into her son’s study, voice low as she says, “What did you do?”
“Mother,” Draco startles. But Narcissa is unfazed, her arms crossing over her chest.
“Why isn’t she here yet?”
He remains silent for a long moment. Then he sighs, long and full of suffering. Sounds like an argument. Narcissa is unsure whether to feel bad for her poor son, or hex him for fighting with you.
“We got into a small…disagreement,” Draco says finally. He runs a hand through his hair, eyes averting to his desk.
“A disagreement about what?”
“It’s very petty. I don’t know why she’s gotten into such a toss about it.”
“Now, Draco.” Narcissa loves her son very much. She would die for him, it’s common knowledge. But there are some things she considers unacceptable. Which is disrespecting women, you especially.
“Have I taught you nothing?”
Draco sighs again. Narcissa softens a little. She gently rubs his shoulder, “What happened?”
“I forgot to say ‘I love you’ before leaving the apartment last Friday.”
Narcissa barely stifles a gasp. Draco casts her a look, before sinking into a wing chair.
“Draco Lucius Malfoy.”
“Mother.”
“You better go apologize to the girl right now.”
“What? It wasn’t that ser-”
“I don’t want any of that ego, Draco.” Her tone rarely hardens around him. He scowls, but it falls flat immediately. Narcissa knows this must be hard on him. For all that pride he’s inherited, there’s only so long he can stay away from you. Only so long until his steel and porcelain crack.
She sighs this time, settling beside him.
“Verbal acknowledgements of love are very gratifying, Draco.”
“I know.”
“It doesn’t take long to say three words.”
“I know.”
“And it’s obvious to anyone with…any senses, truly, that you love her.”
“I-I do.”
“And I want my best friend back.”
Draco finally meets his mother’s gaze. She sees the baffling combination of emotions ravaging through his head. She reaches over to smooth the hair on his forehead. He leans into the age-old comfort, nodding slowly.
“I’ll go talk to her.”
A beat of silence.
Then he jumps up to his feet, pulling his coat off his hanger, “I’ll go right now.”
Narcissa can’t help but smile. He can’t stay away from you for long, but sometimes, everyone needs a little guiding nudge.
°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡
The last thing you expected to see when you opened the door was a very rain soaked Draco Malfoy.
His platinum hair drips all over the fancy wooden floors of the building. His coat is sopping, and despite the very recent argument, you are terrified your Victorian child of a fiancé will catch a cold. You tug him into the warmth of your apartment.
But you are mad at him.
So no welcome. And certainly no kiss.
“Darling.”
You don’t respond, disappearing within the depths of the house to fetch warm clothes. You hear his footsteps behind you.
What does he think? He can show up drenched in rain and just expect you to talk to him. You take your goodbyes very seriously.
You don’t know why he didn’t apparate into the building straightaway. There’s no protective spells about it. Or why he didn’t just use your fireplace. He has done so multiple times before, of course. But then again, he’s always been dramatic.
“Y/N.” He catches hold of your wrist. The cold makes you shudder.
“Look at me.”
You turn slowly. You’re surprised he’s overcome his pride at all.
“I’m sorry.”
“Oh, are you?”
You free yourself from his grasp. He doesn’t resist. He runs a hand through his hair. A trait you’re so familiar with. He’s frustrated, maybe tired. You huff, annoyed.
“I didn’t think I’d have to force you to say ‘I love you’.”
“I do say it!”
“Yeah,” you scoff, “Not everytime.”
“Merlin’s sake,” He curses, and you roll your eyes, “You and my mother have dangerously similar ideals.”
“Oh, so she put you up to this? That makes sense.”
“No, wait. Please let me-”
“Get changed, Draco.” You all but toss the clothes at him. A shirt that you had stolen from him a few weeks ago. He catches it, tossing it to the side.
Before you can react, he grabs hold of your waist, spinning you around. You let out a small yelp, but he’s down on his knees, his wet hair pressing against your abdomen. His thumbs rub slow circles over your hips. A shaky breath escapes his lips.
“I love you, Y/N.” His voice makes a shiver run down your spine. It’s soft and low, like the sound of rustling velvet. You love it so, so much. But you force your hands to stay stiff by your side.
“I love you every moment of the day, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you last week. It is utterly my fault, and it is again my fault that it took my mother for me to realise that." His head lifts to meet your gaze, “Do you understand?”
You think you might cry. Your voice trembles when you say, “Yeah. Yeah, I love you too.”
He takes your hand to press a gentle kiss to the inside of your wrist, “Good. Because I do think my mother would kill me if I let you miss another weekend with her.”
You laugh at that, finally ruffling his hair like you’ve been dying to do. He scowls, but it’s playful.
“I don’t think I could live without another weekend with her,” You answer.
He lets out some sound of relief, and you giggle again, “Let’s go then.”
You grin, wild and unrestricted.
Narcissa might just be the bestest friend a girl could ask for.
not a random boy au
summary: harry and ron are very rudely interrupted from their hiding by their older siblings, who are in search of a broom cupboard to make out in. despite being there first, they get kicked out.
wc: 0.7k
cw: kissing, suggestive, almost handjob(?), getting interrupted
Ron and Harry are too busy cursing in hushed whispers while elbowing each other in the tight space of the broom cupboard to realise that Draco and his goons have stopped chasing them. Neither of them can make eye contact for too long, their backs flat against opposite walls of the cupboard, but chests still to close to touching for their liking. “I’m not scared of Draco hexing us anymore, I’m scared of what Hermione would say if she found us like this.”
Harry scoffs at Ron’s words, but his eyes go wide as he hears quickly approaching footsteps. He looks at Ron, whose face has gone white with fear, and both their faces immediately snap towards the opening door of the cupboard.
You and Fred are laughing quietly amongst yourselves as you swing the cupboard door open, his hands tight on your waist, trying not to touch you too inappropriately before entering the closet. But upon seeing your younger brother and his best friend hiding there, you stop in your tracks. Fred bumps into your back, groaning loudly at the sight of the younger boys, who both immediately make loud sounds of disgust.
Your first instinct is to retreat and pretend this never happened, but Fred’s steady hold on you keeps you in place, even as both his and your younger brothers stare at you with what can only be described as pure revulsion. Fred opens the door to the cupboard even wider, gesturing outside with one hand.
“Get out.” He demands, and both the boys square their shoulders up at him. “We were here first!” Harry argues while Ron simply retorts with “You get out!”
Fred groans to himself in annoyance, dropping his head to your shoulder, and you can understand where he’s coming from since you can feel how hard he is, pressed firmly against your ass. “Get out.” You repeat, and Ron looks at you with pure betrayal in his eyes, but Harry stubbornly crosses his arms over his chest, eyebrows furrowing as he sassily says “Find another closet to make out in.”
Your boyfriend lifts his head up from your shoulder, a mix of panic and frustration in his voice as he spits out “You don’t understand, I’m literally about to combust here.” You feel your cheeks go hot at the unexpected confession your boyfriend has given your younger brothers, but at least it causes both boys to scramble out of the closet, loudly announcing their horror as they run into the hallway.
You gasp as Fred pushes you into the closet, slamming the door behind him as he uncomfortably crouches so to not hit his head. He quickly fiddles with his belt, which echoes loudly in the enclosed space, and you busy yourself by draping your arms over his shoulders and tugging him closer to you so you can press kisses to the exposed skin of his jaw and neck.
Just as Fred frees himself from his trousers and you wrap your fingers around him, bringing out a relieved sigh from between his lips, three knocks sound on the door. Fred groans, but you freeze, knowing for a fact that neither of your brothers would be polite enough to knock.
“Mr. Weasley, Ms. Potter, I suggest finding a more private space to carry on with your… activities.” Professor McGonagall’s voice causes your jaw to go slack, and Fred straightens up so suddenly that he bumps his head on the low ceiling of the cupboard, crying out “Ow!”
But he quickly recovers, glancing down at where your hand stays wrapped around his cock, then calls out “Well, I personally think this is a great spot for hide and seek. George can’t possibly check all the cupboards in the castle.”
“Mr. Weasley, I’m going to open the door.” Fred curses quietly, tucking himself back into his trousers and opening the door himself, dragging you out by the hand. You don’t have the bravery to glance back at Professor Mcgonagall, but you know the exact look on her face as you both run away from her, and especially when she notices Fred’s undone belt, which clangs loudly with each step he takes.
summary: you and fred had been friends for so long that it never occurred to the both of you that everyone thought you were dating.
pairing: fred weasley x gryffindor!reader
includes: fluff, the both of you being mischievous, kissing, cursing, the two third years being wingmen when they don’t even know it
a/n: officially working on requests the second this gets posted!
You and Fred had the same routine every Sunday night after dinner. The routine was simple and familiar—so familiar that even the younger students knew it all too well. Every Sunday evening, you would typically read the Daily Prophet or do final touches to your essays while Fred would find a way to bother you until you finally gave into him and give him attention. That’s how Sunday nights would always go.
Except for tonight. For some reason, today felt off and neither of you could place a finger on it. The evening started off normal, but the longer you ignored it, the more the feeling intensified.
You were supposed to be working on your Charms essay, but all you could think about was the small feeling nagging at the back of your mind. You were so absorbed with the thought that you didn't realize you were biting the tip of you quill until Fred pulled your hand away from you, propping his feet up on your lap.
"What's with the face, Faucett? Need help with your Charms essay?" Fred asked, pouting dramatically when you snapped out of your trance and pushed his feet off your lap. "You hate me."
You scoff and roll up your parchment, placing it away on the side table. "I do not hate you, Fred."
“You do.” He teased and angled you to face him, pulling your legs to lay over his lap instead. He watched you rest your head against the cushions of the couch, making him tap your knee in concern. “What’s wrong?”
You huff and play with the threads of you sweater that Molly had made you this past Christmas, meeting his eyes that were filled with more emotion than you could place. “Nothings wrong with me, but it feels like something in this room is, you know?”
Fred looked over at the other people in the room. There were hardly any people in the Gryffindor Common Room on Sunday evenings. Everyone was out either making use of the last few hours of freedom they had before classes started the next day or in their dorms, trying to cram for any surprise quizzes.
The only people that were in the Common Room were a group of first years comparing notes, some fourth years playing exploding snap, and a pair of third years conversing quietly in a corner, tucked away from prying eyes and voices—such as Fred Weasley himself.
Fred raised a brow at the two boys who looked away quite quickly when they met the older boy's gaze. He turned back to you for a quick second, replying quietly to your previous comment. “Maybe…”
You crease your brows and look over at the pair of boys as well, “What—?”
“Oi!” Fred hollered at the two third years, making the entire room snap their heads over at the sudden boom of a voice. You blew a piece of hair away from your face in exasperation, giving the other students apologetic looks for the commotion.
“What are you blokes whispering about?” He called out, making the third year on the left burn bright red.
You poke Fred's arm when you saw the poor boy's face, not deterred by all his muscles underneath his own sweater. “Fred, stop bothering them."
The same boy looked away from you two, swallowing thickly while his friend pursed his lips in an effort to not laugh at the current situation. While the rest of the room went back to what they were doing, Fred continued to watch the pair, waiting for a response from either one of them.
Finally, after the two boys whispered back and forth—for Godric only knows how long—one of them spoke up, making the red-head beside you perk up instantly.
“Nothing important.” The teen on the right said for the sake of his friend, waving a dismissive hand in your general direction. “Just trying to figure out how to ask this girl out."
The second you both heard those words come out of the boy's mouth, you looked over at Fred who was already looking back at you with a grin that could only be described as smug.
You sighed, knowing you couldn't do much to stop whatever Fred planned on doing. “Freddie, don’t—“
He stood from his spot on the couch, hands placed on his hips like he suddenly knew the answers to everything in the universe. “Luckily, you’ve come to the right man—“
“—Boy—“ You quipped from his side as you followed him to ensure he wouldn't do or say anything stupid.
“Shut up.” Fred half-heartedly pushed you to the side, still catching you when you stumbled over your feet. He stuck his thumb in the other teen’s direction, “Anyway, who does he fancy?”
You roll your eyes at his antics and give them a warm, reassuring smile, hoping it would take their minds off whatever foolishness Fred has in plan. “First, what are your names?”
“I’m Oliver, and he’s James.” The boy on the right said tentatively, the one on the left—which you both now knew was James—nodding in agreement.
Fred clasped his hands together and nodded mindlessly, keeping his eyes trained on the boys. “Alright, I’m Fred and she’s the pain in my arse—“
“Can you focus?” You groan and shove him to the side, laughing loudly when he threw you over his shoulder to get you to stop interrupting—although the two of you knew it was hopeless.
“Oliver, who does James fancy?” Fred asked, ignoring your calls and protests.
You continued to wiggle yourself free from his grasp, huffing when he held onto you tighter. At that point, the rest of the Common Room gave you odd looks, making you flush a bright pink in slight embarrassment.
Oliver opened his mouth to speak, hesitantly as he stared at you and Fred in concern and confusion, unsure what to do in the situation. “Uhm… He fancies this girl in Hufflepuff named Lila—“
You gasped and hit Fred hard in between his shoulder blades, earning a groan as he dropped you from his arms. You spun around and gave James a soft look, knowing exactly who Lila was. You had tutored her last year in Potions—and based on your five minute interaction with James—the would be the perfect pair.
“She’s really bright and gifted in Herbology.” James says softly, making your heart ache at how he spoke about Lila in adoration.
“Have you tried to ask her out before?” You ask and watch him fidget with his hair.
He shakes his head, eyes darting away from your face toward the ground. “I’m too nervous.”
After recovering from you sudden attack, Fred clapped his hand on James’ back, ruffling his hair when the boy looked up at him. “Don’t be, you look handsome and clearly you’ve got the brains for it.”
In an instant, you saw an increase of confidence in the thirteen year old, making you grin at the sight. Maybe Fred being nosy in other students’ conversations wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
You watched for another second before murmuring something to Fred about finally finishing your Charms essay, giving the two boys one last smile. Before you left for the couch, Fred subconsciously pressed a kiss to the top of your head, knowing you were leaving even though he barely listened to you as he continued to speak to the younger students.
“Ask her out to a picnic by the lake or in one of the outdoor gardens—Not Hagrid’s, of course. That would be a nightmare.” Fred clarified with a small smirk decorating his face, leaning back on one of the armchairs behind him as the boys listened intently.
“Thanks, I’ll ask her tomorrow after class.” James replied with a new found determination in his voice.
Finally snapping out of his small trance, Oliver switched his gaze from Fred to your spot on the couch, tilting his head with a raised brow. “How did you ask your girlfriend out?”
Fred copied his facial expression, turning his head to follow the boy’s eye line when they landed on you. He poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue before clearing his throat, waving a dismissive hand in the air.
“Oh, we’re not dating.”
“Sure seems like it.” Oliver crossed his arms and raised both brows this time, judging Fred like he was a liar. “You can’t give out advice about dating without having a girlfriend yourself.”
“My advice is fool proof!” Fred blurted, almost baffled that a thirteen year old accused him of spreading false information—though he has done that multiple times before to everyone he knew
“Then how come you don’t have a girlfriend?”
Fred opened his mouth and shut it, putting his index finger up toward the boys before turning and walking over to you. He stood in front of you with his hands in his front pockets, waiting until you finished your thoughts on the essay before speaking.
“Did you know people think we’re dating?” He said quietly, earning a wide-eye look from you. Based on your reaction, you probably didn’t know either. “Yeah, weird. Those two boys thought we were dating.”
“That’s the weird feeling I was getting in this room.” You say as you twirl your golden charm necklace between your fingers, looking over at the two boys who suddenly looked guilty and mischievous at the same time. You raise a brow and look back at Fred with a small smirk, making him grin back.
“Can you imagine the shock on their faces if they believed it took you two seconds to land a girlfriend?”
Fred bent over by the waist, lips mere centimeters from yours. “And what do you have in mind, Faucett?”
Your smirk widens before you pull him in by the collar of his sweater, lips meeting his faster than anyone could have expected it. As if someone flipped a switch in Fred’s mind, he quickly reciprocated, hands coming up to cup the back of your neck and cheek.
For a second, the two of you were completely immersed in each other that you didn’t realize that—once more—the Gryffindor Common Room stared. This time, they stared only for a brief moment before looking away. It seemed like everyone expected it since the moment you both walked into the Common Room together on any Sunday evening.
You separate after the kiss that lasted longer than you both thought it would last, the two of you slightly out of breath, but still wearing eat-shitting grins at fooling the two third years in their small corner. Fred glanced at them from the corner of his eye, winking at Oliver specifically when he stared with a gaped mouth.
“That’ll be the best piece of advice they’ll ever get.” You laugh quietly as Fred plops down beside you, resting his chin on your shoulder and wrapping his arm around your abdomen, warm against your skin under the sweater. “You’re not going back to those two boys?”
“Nah, it’ll ruin the fun.” He drawled and looked up at you with his pretty brown eyes, pressing a lingering kiss to your shoulder unexpectedly. You looked down at him and raised a brow, waiting for an explanation from the one Weasley you liked a little more than the others.
“So, you? Me? Next weekend? Hogsmeade?” He asked with a confident smile, twirling a piece of your hair in between his index and thumb.
You bite back a smile and pat his cheek, his own smile never wavering. “You really know how to make a girl feel special, Weasley.”
“Is that a yes?” He questioned, looking between your eyes.
“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” You say as you go back to finishing your essay, not caring for the blush that rose to your cheeks.
You and Fred have been friends since first year, but it never crossed your mind that you could ever be in the relationship everyone assumed you were in. Not until this year. It felt like you clung to every single word he spoke to you this time, and it felt so different.
All the pranks he would plan with Lee and George was always relayed to you, every gift he planned to give to his family members went through you—you were practically his without officially being his.
“I plan for many things, Faucett.” Fred moved to sit properly and dragged your legs back on top of his lap, messing with the embroidery on your jeans. “But I never planned on someone like you kissing me just to mess with two thirteen year olds.”
“You went along with it.” You clarify, knowing damn well that he also wanted to prank the two teens. Besides, it’s not like it was your first time kissing Fred. Not at all.
Your gaze meets his, “So what, you actually want to take me out on a date now?”
“Yep.” He continued to grin and trace the embroidery.
You carefully tuck away your Charms essay once more, continuing to hide the smile that came with the thought of going out with Fred Weasley. “I guess I’ll go on a date with you.”
Fred didn’t even know his grin could get bigger, but it did. He pulled you as close to him as he could, arms wrapped securely around your waist as he tilted his chin down to meet your eyes. “You say it like it’s a bad thing.”
“You are bad news.” You laugh and melt into him when he pressed a kiss to your forehead. You raised a brow at him, “Never planned huh?”
“Nope.” He popped his syllables with a smile so bright you swore the sun would shake in it’s presence. “Never planned.”
⤷ One-shot!!! in which...Jungkook, a 7th year pure-blood Slytherin, is secretly in love with you, a 7th year half-blood Ravenclaw. His only obstacle from consuming you is your Gryffindor boyfriend, Minjae, whom he hates with his entire heart. Jungkook hexes him in the hallways whenever he gets the chance and silently wishes for his downfall.
Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new (Do i wanna know?-Arctic Monkeys)
pairing: 전정국 x fem!reader
genre: enemies to lovers | slice of life | smut | angst|
warnings: 18+, nsfw, jk is a manace, he's cocky but he's SOO in love, love triangle, dom!jungkook, swearing, multiple orgasms, making out, drinking, teasing, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, class differences, power imbalance, teasing, pet names, arguing
word count: 11.3k
Click here for the characters' moodboards and information!
Taehyung slid into the chair opposite you. "You're hiding. Minjae is looking for you. He wants you to help him with some Quidditch strategy diagrams, again."
You sighed, the sound barely disturbing the quiet. "Tell him I'm studying."
Taehyung gave you a look that said he knew exactly what kind of "studying" you were doing… which was none. The heavy book in front of you was, in fact, upside down.
"Mhm, I will tell him you're studying… whatever," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "He'll probably believe it. You're the smart one."
Then, the heavy oak doors of the library swung open, and a very specific brand of chaos walked in. Or more accurately, two brands.
Jeon Jungkook and Park Jimin. Slytherins. Pure-bloods.
"I'm telling you that it's a terrible idea," Jimin's voice was a strained whisper.
"All of my ideas are terrible, that's why they're fun," Jungkook said, his voice loud enough to carry.
You didn't need to look up. You knew that voice. Jeon Jungkook's eyes scanned the room until they landed on your little corner. He quickly looked away, a disinterest that was more telling than a stare.
"Besides, what else are we supposed to do? Study?" He snorted, leaning against a bookshelf, his arms crossed over his chest. He paused, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. "I heard Whitmore's new strategy involves trying not to fall off his broom this time. It's revolutionary, really."
Jimin let out an exasperated sigh. "Keep your voice down JK, for Merlin's sake."
Taehyung mumbled just loud enough for you to hear, "He has the emotional range of a teaspoon, I swear."
Jungkook's head snapped toward your table, his smirk widening. "What was that, Taehyung? Working on your NEWTs in stating the obvious?"
Jimin grabbed Jungkook's elbow. "Oh, we're leaving now, before you make a scene and Madam Pince bans us for life."
You finally looked up as Jimin was steering Jungkook toward the door, but not before Jungkook shot a sharp look in your direction and called over his shoulder, "Don't strain yourself, Y/n. It would be such a shame if a Ravenclaw Head Girl failed her exams."
The library door finally shut.
Taehyung closed his book with a soft thump. "That was so subtle."
You muttered, "What's his problem anyway?"
Taehyung laughed a bit. "His problem is about 5'10", wears red and gold, totally reminds him of a golden retriever, and he can't help but bring up Quidditch at the worst moments."
He gave the book cover a little tap. "But honestly, I'm more worried about into these books you’re getting. They read from bottom to top, you know."
You shut the book, a bit embarrassed. "Come on, quit it."
While you were packing up, Minjae burst into the library, his usual lively energy brightening the mood.
"There you are! I've been searching everywhere for you!" He waved from across the tables, completely unaware of the drama that just unfolded. "You won't believe the new formation I've come up with for the Hufflepuff game, it's genius, and I need your help to map it out."
"Oh, sure," you said, the words feeling hollow.
Minjae plopped down in the chair next to you, pulling out a crumpled piece of parchment from his robe pocket without even noticing the upside-down book or how flustered you were.
"Alright, picture this: instead of doing a regular starter formation, we flip it. Chasers fly in reverse! It’s a bit risky, but if we pull it off…"
Taehyung cleared his throat as he packed up his stuff. "I’m outta here. Try not to burn the library down with all this revolutionary brainstorming."
You nodded. "Catch you later." Then you looked back at Minjae. "It's a bold move..."
Minjae was grinning, totally wrapped up in his 'genius' idea, scribbling messy lines on the parchment with a quill that was leaking ink everywhere.
He was so focused on his plan that he didn’t see Jungkook come back into the library this time without his usual buddy, Jimin. Jungkook leaned against a bookshelf, not looking at you at first. He was too busy fixing the cuff of his green robes, his silver Slytherin tie just loose enough to seem a bit rebellious.
"A starter formation...? How ambitious of you. Did you come up with that all by yourself, Whitmore, or did you have help from a first-year's Quidditch practice picture book?"
Minjae was startled and turned to face him. "Jeon, we're in the library."
Jungkook pushed off the bookshelf and took a few steps closer. "I know, I can smell the desperation from here." His eyes flickered to you for a split second.
"Can you two take this somewhere else?" Your voice cut through the tension like a knife. Both boys turned to look at you, Minjae with surprise, and Jungkook with a mask of indifference that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Minjae held up his hands. "Sorry, you're right." He turned back to Jungkook. "This isn't the place."
"Don't sweat it, Y/n. We definitely wouldn’t want to interrupt your… studying," he said, giving you a pointed look at the upside-down book on the table.
Minjae let out a sigh. "What’s his deal? Seriously, he’s been acting like this for ages." He glanced at you, his expression softening. "Anyway, sorry about that. Let’s hit the Great Hall, I'm starving."
You nodded, grabbing your bag while Minjae quickly picked up his crumpled parchment.
"Lead the way, beautiful. I swear no more Quidditch talk for at least ten minutes," he said with a grin.
As you both headed out of the library, you noticed a quick shimmer of a disillusionment charm hastily casted . Next to where Jungkook had been standing was a small, crumpled piece of parchment. You bent down and snatched it up fast, folding it clumsily and shoving it into your robe pocket before Minjae noticed it.
The walk to the Great Hall was filled with Minjae chatting about random stuff, the upcoming Hufflepuff match, the treacle tart he was hoping would be dessert, and a funny story about a Gryffindor first-year. He didn’t mention Jungkook again, and he totally missed how often your fingers brushed against that folded parchment in your pocket.
Once you got to the Great Hall, it was loud and warm, buzzing with the usual dinner noise. Minjae walked you to your table and hung out with you for a moment. Across the hall, Jungkook sat at the middle of the Slytherin table, surrounded by a bunch of younger Slytherins who were clearly hanging on his every word. His eyes were locked on you.
Jimin elbowed him sharply. "You're staring, again."
Jungkook's gaze snapped back to his friend, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm observing; it's called strategy."
Jimin sighed. "Right. The only thing you're strategizing is how to not get another detention for hexing Minjae."
Jungkook's jaw tightened, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm on the table as he tried his best to look casual.
You sat down at the Ravenclaw table, Minjae next to you as he wanted to stay a little longer.
"Here, tart," Minjae said, pushing a small plate toward you.
You thanked him and took the food, trying to pay attention to his story about the team’s latest practice, but your mind kept wandering. A table over, Jungkook had his arm casually draped over the back of the bench, cracking up at something a seventh-year girl said, but his laugh didn’t reach his eyes.
He raised his voice just enough. "-think the best parties are the ones Filch doesn't find out about until the next morning, right, Jimin?"
Jimin stabbed a roasted potato. "I think the best parties are the ones where you don't set anything on fire."
Jungkook chuckled, his cocky grin showing. His eyes caught yours again, and he raised his goblet in a mock toast in your direction before returning to his friends.
Minjae finally noticed your distraction. "Oh, don't let him get to you. He's just trying to get a rise out of you. Out of everyone."
At the Slytherin table, Jimin whispered to Jungkook, "What do you think you're doing?"
Jungkook shoved him lightly away. "I'm having dinner."
Jungkook stood up suddenly, his chair scraping across the stone floor. The Slytherin side of the table went silent. He didn’t look at you again. Instead, he stuck his hands in his pockets and left the Great Hall. Jimin let out a sigh, rubbing his face in frustration, before getting up to go after him.
Minjae shook his head. "See? Drama. Everything is a performance with that guy." He cleared his throat. "More tart, pretty?"
You shook your head, your heart pounding. "No, thank you. Excuse me, I have to use the bathroom."
You quickly ducked into the girls' bathroom, hoping there wasn’t a ghost hanging around tonight. You leaned against the sink and pulled out the parchment you had in your pocket.
As you unfolded it, the writing was all over the place. It wasn’t a letter; it was a list.
• Charms essay (ask her for notes? Stupid)
• Check broomstick polish
• Tell Jimin to mind his own business
• Don't look at her in the Great Hall
• Don't look at her in Potions
• Don't look at her. Period.
• Yule Ball (who is she going with? Don't care.)
• I care
• Stop caring
• Her hair is beautiful in the sun.
• Merlin, I'm pathetic.
The last line was crossed out so violently that the quill had torn through the parchment in one spot. At the very bottom, written smaller, was:
• Tell her
Everything except one thing was crossed out, and that one thing was circled over and over, with the ink soaking through the paper. Suddenly, the door creaked open. You jumped, clenched the paper in your fist, and quickly shoved it back into your pocket.
And then Moaning Myrtle decided to make her entrance with a dramatic sob. "Oh, what's that in your pocket? Is it a secret? I love secrets!"
Myrtle swooped down, her translucent form passing close to your pocket. You clutched the paper instinctively.
"Nothing and nobody wants to hear you wail for the next hour," you said, your voice sharper than you intended. "Go bother someone in the prefects' bathroom. I hear they have better bubbles."
Myrtle let out a piercing wail and flew into a nearby toilet. You took a shaky breath, your mind racing. The list, the messy and crossed-out thoughts of the boy who tormented you at every turn. The boy who, it seemed, was just as tormented by you.
You stepped out of the bathroom, the crumpled paper crammed in your pocket feeling like a heavy rock. The Great Hall was still loud, but it all felt far away, like it was muffled. Minjae was still at the Ravenclaw table, chatting excitedly with one of your classmates. He noticed you and his face brightened up with a smile.
"Hey! Everything okay? You were gone a while," he asked, his brow furrowed with concern.
You forced a smile, the muscles in your face feeling foreign and stiff. "Everything's fine. Just a headache." The lie tasted like ash in your mouth.
Minjae, bless his oblivious heart, accepted it immediately, his brow smoothing out as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.
"Ah, the perks of being the smartest and the most beautiful witch in the room. Come on, let's get you back to the common room, you need rest."
You let him guide you, you couldn't bring yourself to glance at the Slytherin table to see if Jungkook had returned. You weren't sure you could handle it. The walk to the Ravenclaw tower was a blur of Minjae's comforting chatter. You murmured noncommittal and monosyllabic responses, your mind a thousand miles away, replaying the crossed-out words on the parchment.
Finally, you reached the bronze eagle knocker. Minjae waited patiently for you to answer
"I have cities, but no houses live there. I have mountains, but no trees. I have water, but no fish. What am I?"
"A map," you answered automatically.
The door swung open, revealing the circular common room. Minjae followed you in.
"Well," he said, dropping onto one of the blue sofas. "That was… eventful. Jeon really needs a hobby." He leaned back, lacing his hands behind his head. "You know, I sometimes wonder what his deal is. We could probably be friends if he wasn't so… Slytherin about everything."
You froze by the window, your hand tightening on the sill. The crumpled parchment in your pocket seemed to burn.
"He's not just 'Slytherin', Minjae," you said, your voice quiet but sharp. "He's cruel."
Minjae sat up, his easy-going expression replaced by one of confusion. "Cruel? He's just an arrogant boy who takes the house rivalry too seriously. It's not personal."
"It's always personal with him," you whispered, turning to face him. "Don't you see that? The hexes, the comments… It's all aimed at you."
"Because I'm the Gryffindor Captain and he is the Slytherin Captain! It's part of the game!" Minjae insisted, his voice rising slightly in frustration. "Why are you defending him all of a sudden?"
"I'm not defending him!" you shot back, "I'm just… I'm saying it's not just a game to him. Nothing with him is just a game."
The silence that fell between you was heavy and unfamiliar. Minjae was looking at you like he'd never seen you before, a flicker of hurt and confusion in his hazel eyes.
"What's going on with you, Y/n? You've been distant for weeks. And now you're defending Jungkook? Is this about that note he passed you in Potions? Because that was just him being a jerk as usual."
You stared at him, and he remembered the note Jungkook had "accidentally" dropped on your desk that simply said, "Your tie is crooked, Head Girl." You had seen the way Jungkook's fingers had brushed against yours, the panicked look in his eyes before he'd masked it. You had thought it was a strange moment, now you knew it was a desperate move.
"I'm tired," you said finally, turning away from him and heading towards the girls' dormitory. "I'm going to bed."
"Y/n, wait," Minjae called out, standing up.
But you didn't stop and walked up the spiral staircase, leaving him standing alone in the middle of the common room.
You flopped onto your bed in your dorm, leaning back against the headboard. The room was quiet; your roommates were already out cold. You pulled the crumpled paper from your pocket, feeling your fingers shake as you laid it out on your lap. You read it over and over again.
Your eyes wandered to the bedside table, where a photo of you and Minjae was sitting. He had his arm around you, and that grin on his face was just full of happiness. It was a perfect snapshot of a couple in love.
You picked up the frame, tracing Minjae's smile with your thumb. You glanced back down at that frantic, ink-stained paper in your lap, and a scary thought crept in: maybe being safe just wasn’t enough anymore. Maybe it never was.
The prince in the dungeon
The decision was born of a desperate, reckless curiosity. For two days after you had found the list, the piece of parchment in your pocket felt like it was burning a hole through your robes.
"You've been a million miles away,” Minjae said on Friday afternoon, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you stared out a window. "Is it NEWT stress? Because if it is, we can have a fun study session with snacks."
You forced a laugh, leaning back into his warmth. "Something like that, just tired."
It was always the same damn excuse, and he bought it every time.
That evening, as you sat in the Great Hall, the announcement came. Jungkook was throwing a party tonight in the Slytherin common rooms.
"He's going to get himself expelled," Minjae muttered “and probably take half his house with him."
Taehyung, sitting across from you, caught your eye. He gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod. He knew, he knew you knew, and he knew this was your chance.
"I think I'm going to skip the study session tonight" you said.
Minjae looked at you, surprised. "Oh? Okay, we can just relax then, maybe sneak up to the Astronomy Tower?"
"No," you said, a little too quickly, "I mean… I heard about that party in the dungeons."
Minjae's fork clattered onto his plate. "You want to go to Jungkook's party? Y/n, why? It's just going to be a bunch of Slytherins getting drunk and being… well, Slytherins."
"I'm curious," you lied, your heart starting to pound. "I'm Head Girl, maybe I should… make an appearance, show them I'm not afraid."
It was a flimsy excuse, and you both knew it, but Minjae wanted to believe it.
"Okay," he said slowly, "If you think that's a good idea, but I'm coming with you. I'm not letting you go down there alone."
Panic flared in your chest. This wasn't part of the plan. You needed to see him, to talk to him, alone.
"No, Minjae, it's fine, really. You hate that stuff anyway. I'll just pop in, make a scene, and leave. It'll be good for my reputation."
He looked unconvinced, but you gave him your most convincing smile, the one that usually made him agree to anything.
"Alright but be careful.”
You nodded, your throat tight. "I got it."
An hour later, you find yourself wandering down a dark, unfamiliar hallway, your footsteps echoing off the stone walls. . You're making your way to the dungeons, drawn in by the muffled music. As you reach the bottom of the last staircase, the noise hits you first, and the air is thick with the smell of Firewhiskey.
The password, told to you by a cheeky Slytherin, is "Pureblood."
When you step into the common room, it's like a whole different world. The place is packed with students, a sea of Slytherin green mixed with a few from other houses, all dancing, laughing, and drinking. You can’t help but feel like you stand out in your blue and silver colors.
And then you notice him.
Jungkook is up on a raised platform, drink in hand, looking like he owns the place. His gaze sweeps over the crowd. He definitely gives off the cocky pureblood prince vibe, and you think about bailing.
But then he spots you.
His eyes lock with yours, and the smirk he had disappears for a moment. He looks genuinely surprised, but then a slow, confident grin spreads across his face. He says something to Jimin, who’s next to him, and starts pushing through the crowd, still keeping his eyes on you.
"Well, well," he said, his voice low and raspy, just for you. "Look at you, come to bust the party, Head Girl?"
"I came to see what all the fuss was about."
"The fuss is about not caring. You should try it sometime." His eyes flickered down to your pocket. "Or maybe you already are."
Your breath hitched. He knew you'd taken the list, he had to. This was a game of cat and mouse. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Don't you?" He was so close now you could smell the Firewhiskey on his breath. "You're in my world, Y/n. You should learn the rules."
"And what are the rules?" you challenged him, your chin held high, your arms crossed.
His gaze dropped to your lips, and for a heart-stopping moment, you thought he was going to kiss you right there, in the middle of his own party, but then he smirked.
"The first rule is that you don't belong here."
He looked entirely too proud of himself. He was playing with her, treating the conversation like a Quidditch match where he already had the lead. He liked the way she crossed her arms, it was a defensive gesture, but it didn't hide the way she was still flushed.
"Besides, if you leave now, you're just proving me right. You're just a little bird who's too scared to stay in the dark for more than five minutes."
"Fine," Y/n said, the word defiant.
"Now that's more like it."
Your gaze shifted without meaning to a couple making out in the corner of the room. His eyes followed your line of sight to the couples, and Jungkook let out a low, mocking hum.
"Careful, Y/n. If you stare too long, you might actually learn something. What's the matter? Is the Gryffindor too gentle? Does he only hold your hand and kiss your forehead?"
Y/n felt the heat creep up her neck. "None of your business."
Jungkook chuckled sarcastically. He turned away from you and rejoined his friends. You didn't leave, and you grabbed a bottle of something that smelled like cinnamon from a nearby table and took a sip. It burned all the way down.
You spent the next hour watching him from across the room. You saw him charm a pretty sixth-year girl, saw him win a round of wizard's chess, saw him laugh with Jimin, and through it all, you felt his eyes on you, quick glances that he thought you didn't notice.
Finally, you'd had enough, you set your bottle down and pushed your way through the crowd towards the exit. You'd seen enough for tonight and you knew what you had to do.
You were almost at the door when a hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you into a small, dark alcove behind a tapestry. He slammed his other hand against the wall beside your head, caging you in. The noise of the party was suddenly muffled, replaced by the sound of your own breathing.
“What the-”
"Where do you think you're going?”
"Home," you said, your voice trembling.
He leaned in closer, his face inches from yours. "You shouldn't have come here," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "You shouldn't have seen that."
"Seen what? The perfect party?"
"This," he said, gesturing vaguely at the party beyond the tapestry. "This is all I have. This is all I am, a joke, a performance. Is that what you wanted to see?"
"No," you whispered, your anger melting away. "That's not what I see at all."
His eyes searched yours, desperately "Then what do you see?"
You saw the boy who wrote the list, the boy who was desperately lonely, the boy who thought he was unlovable.
"I see you-," you whispered, the words hanging in the charged air between you.
"You don't, you see him." He jerked his head in the direction of the party, in the direction of where Minjae would be. "You see the charming Gryffindor hero. You don't see this."
"This?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper. "What is this, Jungkook? This party? This… mask? Is this all you think you are?"
"It's all I'm allowed to be!" he said angrily, his eyes blazing. "Do you have any idea what it's like? To be told, every single day, that your worth is tied to your name, your blood, your ability to be ruthless?”
He was so close, his body trembling with the force of his confession
"I look at you and I see everything I'm supposed to hate, everything I can't have. You're good, you're brilliant, you’re beautiful and kind, and you're with him, the perfect Gryffindor. It's a fucking fairytale, and I'm the monster in the dungeon."
"You're not a monster," you breathed, your hand coming up to rest on his chest, over the frantic beating of his heart.
He didn't pull away. "Aren't I?" he challenged, his voice a bitter whisper. "I hex your boyfriend in the corridors, I spread rumors about him, I do everything I can to make his life miserable because I'm jealous of him. I'm jealous of the way he gets to hold your hand, I'm jealous of the way you look at him, I'm jealous of the air he breathes because it's the same air you're breathing. If that's not a monster, what is?"
"Why?" you asked, your own voice shaking. "Why do you do it? Why not just… tell me?"
"And say what?" he laughed, a harsh, broken sound. " 'Hey, Y/n, I know I've been a bastard for the past seven years, but I'm secretly in love with you, please leave the wonderful, decent guy you're dating for the messed-up son of a Death Eater sympathizer who doesn't know how to feel anything without hating himself for it?' How well do you think that would go?"
"I would have listened" you said, your heart aching for him.
"No. You wouldn't have. You would have seen me as a joke. A pathetic Slytherin pining after something he can't have. It's better this way, the enemy part, at least that's real."
"It's not real," you insisted, your fingers curling into the fabric of his robe. "None of it is real. This…" you said, gesturing to the space between you, "…is real. This is the realest thing I've felt in years."
For a moment, you thought you had reached him. The wall of arrogance and cruelty crumbled, leaving just the boy who was lost and scared and so incredibly in love with you, it was destroying him. He leaned in, his eyes fluttering shut, his lips parting slightly. He was going to kiss you. And you were going to let him.
You licked your lips
You swallowed
Your stomach did the flip thing
But then, a loud cheer erupted from the party, followed by the sound of a shattering bottle, and Jungkook's eyes snapped open, everything you’ve tried to build tonight crashed down.
"No," he whispered, pulling back from you, running a hand through his hair, his eyes wild. "No, we can't, I can't."
"Jungkook, wait-” you reached for him, but he flinched away.
"Don't," he said, his voice flat "This was a mistake, a big stupid mistake.” He straightened his robes, the mask was back on. "You should go."
"Jungkook, please…," you begged, your heart breaking.
"Go back to your tower, Y/n." He didn't look at you, he looked at the stone wall behind you, as if you were no longer there. "Go back to your boyfriend.”
He turned his back on you and walked away, disappearing into the crowd of laughing, Slytherins. He had pushed you away, but not before he had given you everything.
You stumbled out from behind the tapestry. You didn't look back, you couldn't. The walk back to the Ravenclaw tower was a nightmare.
The rest of the weekend drifted by in a quiet silence. You stayed away from the Great Hall, saying you had a terrible headache at the NEWT level, and Taehyung kindly brought your meals to your room. Minjae kept sending owl messages, each one cheerier than the last, checking in on how you were feeling and letting you know he was thinking of you. But, somehow, you just couldn't find the words to reply to any of them.
By Monday, the bubble of your isolation had to burst. You had Charms with the Gryffindors, and you knew you couldn't avoid Minjae forever. Walking into the classroom felt like marching to your own execution.
"Hey! You're back!" he whispered as you sat down, his hand immediately finding yours on the desk. "I was so worried. Are you feeling better?"
"I'm fine," you lied, pulling your hand away to retrieve your wand. "Just needed some quiet."
"Right," he said, his smile faltering slightly. "Well, I'm glad you're here, maybe you can help me with the wrist flick, I always mess it up."
You tried to focus, you really did. You tried to listen to Flitwick and to perform the practiced flicks of your wand, but all you could think about was the way Jungkook's body caged you in, and the sound of his voice as he confessed everything.
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a concerned whisper. "Y/n, seriously. What's going on? Is this about Jungkook's party? Did he say something to you? Did he hurt you?"
"I think we should talk, Minjae," you said, your voice barely audible over the chatter of the class. "Meet me by the Black Lake, after class."
He didn't know what, but he knew something was fundamentally wrong. "Okay, the Black Lake, after class."
The next twenty minutes were the longest of your life. When the bell finally rang, you packed your bag with shaking hands and walked out of the castle. He found you a few minutes later, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his shoulders hunched against the cold. He looked at you with those honest, hazel eyes.
"So, this sounds serious."
"Don't," you whispered, turning away from him to look at the water. "Please don't be kind right now."
"What? Why? Y/n, whatever it is, we can fix it. Just talk to me."
"I am trying to talk to you! I'm breaking up with you."
"You're… what? No, you're not. You're just stressed."
"It's not that," you said, finally turning to face him. His face was pale. "This isn't working, Minjae."
"Not working?" he repeated, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. "What does that even mean? We've been working for years! We work!"
"We were," you corrected gently. "But we're not anymore."
"Is this because of him?" he demanded, his voice rising with anger. "Is this because of Jungkook? That party? What did he do to you?"
"He didn't do anything!" you insisted, the words feeling more and more like a lie. "This is about me. This is about… us. We're a fairytale, Minjae. We’re a lovely story, but it's not real."
"It is real!" he shouted, stepping closer. "What I feel for you is real! Is this a joke? Are you breaking up with me because you're bored? Because you've decided you want some drama in your life? Is that what this is?"
"No!" you cried, tears finally welling in your eyes. "It's because I don't love you! Not the way you deserve, not the way I should."
"You don't… but you said…"
"I know what I said," you whispered, the tears now streaming down your face. "And I meant it when I said it. But things change, and people change."
"So you've changed," he said, his voice flat. " You've changed so much that you just throw away two years? Don't I deserve a real reason? Don't I deserve the truth?"
"The truth is that I'm not the person you think I am. And you deserve someone who is, someone who can give you all of this, without hesitation." You gestured between you, to the life you had built together. "I can't. I’m sorry."
"So that's it," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Just like that."
"I'm so sorry, Minjae," you choked out. "I am so, so sorry."
He shook his head, a sad, broken little smile touching his lips. "Don't be. Just… go. Please. Just go."
You didn't want to. You wanted to stay and explain, to take the pain away, but you knew you couldn't. You turned and walked away, leaving him standing alone; the perfect hero had just lost its heroine.
You skipped dinner that night and found yourself hiding in the back of the library, acting like you were researching some potion you already knew by heart. You felt like such a coward for breaking a good guy's heart, and now you were just avoiding the fallout. Every time the library doors opened, you freaked out, hoping it wouldn’t be Minjae or, even worse, Taehyung, showing up and wanting to know what the hell happened.
It was nearly curfew when a shadow fell over your book.
"Rough day, Head Girl?" He slid into the seat opposite you, his movements fluid and predatory. He looked rested, composed, a stark contrast to the emotional wreckage you had become.
"What do you want, Jeon?" you asked, not looking up from your book. Your voice was hoarse from crying.
He reached across the table and deliberately closed your book.
"I want to know why," he said. “I want to know why you did it."
"I don't know what you're talking about," you lied, your voice a pathetic whisper.
"Don't even think about lying to me. You dumped him, the so-called hero of your fairytale. So I'm gonna ask you again. Why?"
You had no answer. How could you explain that his confession changed everything?
"I… I had to," you stammered, looking away.
"Had to?" He laughed harshly. "No one has to do anything, Y/n. You wanted to end it. Why? Was it because of me?"
Your head snapped back to his. "What?"
"Was it because of me?" he repeated. "Did you see me on Friday night and decide your perfect little life wasn't so perfect anymore? Did my 'performance' finally get to you?"
"It wasn't a performance!" you shot back, your own anger rising to meet his. "I saw you, Jungkook. The real you."
"The real me?" he laughed again, that same broken, bitter sound. "You saw a pathetic, drunken mess in a dungeon who spilled his guts because he couldn't keep his fucking mouth shut. That's not the real me. The real me is the one who hexes your boyfriend and makes your life hell. That's the one you should be afraid of."
"I'm not afraid of you."
"You should be," he hissed, leaning even closer. "You took it, the list. The one thing, the one stupid, pathetic piece of parchment in the entire world that was just for me, and you took it. You read it, and then what? You decided to do what? Pity me? You felt so sorry for the monster in the dungeon that you threw away your prince?"
"No," you breathed, shaking your head.
"Then what?" he demanded, his voice rising in frustration. "Give me one good reason why you would throw away everything for… for this."
You couldn’t tell him the whole story. You couldn't admit that all those mean things he’d said now felt like love notes. You couldn’t say that his broken confession stuck with you more than two years of Minjae being all sweet and easygoing. So, you did the only thing you could think of: you dug into your pocket.
His eyes followed your movement, his breath catching in his throat. You pulled out the crumpled, worn piece of parchment, his list. You didn't unfold it.
"This," you said, your voice shaking. "This is why."
"I don't understand," he whispered.
"You told me to tell you what I see. You said I see the hero, and honestly, you’re right, I did. I saw that boy who was kind, good, and safe. But he wasn't really mine, not really." You glanced down at the parchment in your hand. "This… this is mine. This chaotic, messy, broken thing. This is real, and I'm over pretending it's not.
He looked at the paper, then back at you, his eyes wide with realization. He hadn’t pushed you away; he’d actually pulled you in.
“No,” he whispered, like it was both a prayer and a curse. “You can’t. You shouldn’t.”
“I already did,” you replied softly.
The days after the breakup blurred into a week. You were… on your own. The castle felt off. Minjae kept his distance, which was both good and bad. You’d catch sight of him in the Great Hall or outside on the lawns. Taehyung was always around, his sharp eyes catching everything, but he gave you your space.
And then there was Jungkook.
Nothing much happened, at least on the surface. He went back to being Jeon Jungkook, the cocky Slytherin prince, but it felt different now. You noticed the cracks, you saw how his eyes searched for you across a crowded room, not with his usual teasing. He was giving you space, which had to be tough for him. He was waiting, you realized. Waiting for you to make the next move. The ball was in your court.
However, things hit a boiling point on Friday morning.
The Great Hall was buzzing with the pre-weekend energy. You were picking at a piece of toast when Taehyung slid onto the bench beside you.
"You look like a dead pufferskin," he stated, not unkindly. "Have you even slept?"
"Shut it, Taehyung," you mumbled, pushing your plate away.
He sighed, pulling a bowl of porridge towards him. "Look, I know you're going through… whatever this is. But you can't just exist on air and angst forever.”
"I'll be fine."
"No, you won't," he said flatly. "And neither will he."
You didn’t need to ask who ‘he’ was. Your eyes automatically shifted to the Slytherin table. Jungkook was staring blankly at his plate, pushing food around like he was annoyed but didn’t have the energy to care. Jimin was chatting with him, looking worried, but Jungkook wasn’t really paying attention. He looked just as miserable as you felt.
Just then, the main doors of the Great Hall creaked open, Minjae. He wasn’t his usual bubbly self. He scanned the Ravenclaw table and finally locked eyes with you. For a moment, you could see a flash of something cross his face before it turned cold, and he focused on someone else.
Jungkook.
Before you could even wrap your head around what was going on, Minjae was confidently walking across the Great Hall.
Taehyung grabbed your arm under the table. "Oh no. Y/n, don’t just sit there."
But you were totally frozen. You could only watch as Minjae stopped right in front of the Slytherin table, staring straight at Jungkook.
"We need to talk, Jeon," Minjae said.
Jungkook slowly lifted his head. The tired look was gone. He leaned back in his chair, throwing an arm over the back in a way that showed he didn’t care.
"What’s up, Whitmore?" Jungkook said with sarcasm. "Your amazing new plan to lose tomorrow’s match?"
A few of the younger Slytherins laughed. Jimin looked like he was about to be sick.
"This isn't about Quidditch," Minjae said, his voice tight with restraint. "This is about Y/n."
At the sound of your name, Jungkook's entire posture changed. He sat up straight.
"Ah," Jungkook said, his voice now dangerously soft. "The Head Girl. What about her? Did she come crying to you, telling you the big, bad monster scared her in the dungeon?"
Minjae's fists clenched at his sides. "You have no idea what you're talking about."
"Don't I?" Jungkook stood up, towering over Minjae. "I saw you sulking around for a week. I know she finally got fed up with pretending to be happy with the perfect Gryffindor. She woke up and realized she wanted something real."
That last part hit hard. A gasp went through the students nearby. You felt your face go pale.
"You're lying," Minjae shot back, stepping closer. "You manipulated her. This is all your fault."
"My fault?" Jungkook chuckled, but it sounded nasty. "How's it my fault she finally realized you're just a boring, safe placeholder? I didn't even have to lift a finger. You messed up all on your own."
That was all Minjae needed to hear.
He charged at Jungkook, hands stretched out, ready to grab the collar of Jungkook's fancy robes. But Taehyung was quicker. "Immobulus!" A blast light hit Minjae mid-lunge, freezing him in a goofy pose.
Jungkook didn’t even blink. He ignored Taehyung, the professors rushing in. He locked eyes with Minjae. Slowly, he raised his wand.
“Finite Incantatem,”
The spell hit. Minjae stumbled forward, nearly losing his balance before he caught himself, breathing hard, embarrassment flaring in his eyes. Jungkook just saved him from making things worse.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” Minjae growled, his voice strained. “Don’t even look at me after what you’ve done.”
“What I’ve done?” Jungkook took a step closer, stepping into Minjae’s space, holding his wand loosely at his side like a casual threat. “I haven’t done anything. That’s the issue, right? I stayed out of it. I kept quiet. And she still left you.”
"You messed with her head!" Minjae shot back, his voice shaking. "You've been filling it with your garbage for years!"
Jungkook laughed, “Garbage? I told her the truth. I told her I was a wreck. I told her I was a monster. The only thing I’m guilty of is wanting her. What about you? You had her! You had everything anyone could want, but you were so boring that you let her slip away."
"I loved her!" Minjae yelled, fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, "I would have done anything for her!"
"Anything except what she actually needed," Jungkook shot back, his words hitting hard. "You loved the idea of her, the smart, pretty girlfriend to make you look good. Did you ever really see her? Did you notice how she bit her lip when she was deep in thought? Did you know she hates treacle tart but ate it every time you offered it because she didn't want to hurt your feelings?"
Each question was a fresh blow, and you watched Minjae's face crumble. He didn't know. He didn't know any of it. And Jungkook, the boy who supposedly hated you, knew everything.
"She was happy with me," Minjae whispered, a last, desperate defense.
"Was she? Or was she just comfortable? There’s a difference. She was settling for a life that was easy, safe, and a bit empty. I just… I gave her a reason to stop."
Minjae looked completely shattered. He locked eyes with Jungkook, pleading for him to deny it, to tell him it was all a lie. But Jungkook said nothing. Eventually, Minjae’s gaze slipped past Jungkook to you across the silent hall. The anger had faded from his eyes, replaced by deep sorrow. He understood now, he saw everything. With that final, heartbreaking look, he walked out of the Great Hall.
Jungkook's shoulders drooped for a moment, the weight of his victory pressing down on him. Every eye in the room was on you, judging silently. You were the reason for this chaos, the girl at the center of a storm you hadn't known how to stop.
In that crowd, his eyes found yours. His eyes locked onto yours, and in them, you saw not a question but a command. Come.
You pushed your chair back, the sound slicing through the quiet like a shout. Keeping your head up and your expression blank, you made your way over to him. You didn’t glance at Taehyung’s worried expression or Jimin’s cautious look. All that mattered was reaching him.
He met you halfway, right before the huge doors of the hall. He didn't say a word; just turned and brushed past you, and you fell in step beside him. Instead of dragging you down to the dungeons or some creepy hidden spot, he took you up on the moving staircases. As you climbed higher, the noise of the castle faded away, replaced by the sound of your own racing heartbeat. He was guiding you to a place filled with ghosts and memories, somewhere you hadn’t been in ages.
The Room of Requirement
"Are you happy now?" you finally asked, your voice barely a whisper.
He turned slowly. "Happy?" he repeated, the word a bitter taste on his tongue. "No. I'm not happy."
He closed the distance between you in two long strides.
"I'm furious. I'm furious at him for being so blind. I'm furious at you for being so stupid. And most of all, I'm furious at myself for thinking for one second that this could ever end well."
"You didn't have to do that," you shot back, he grabbed your wrist.
"Didn't I?" he chuckled. "What was I supposed to do? Let him keep living in his little fantasy? Let him keep looking at you like you were his trophy? I had to show everyone. You’re not his. You never were."
"And I'm yours?" you whispered.
His eyes grew dark as he lifted his other hand, fingers gently tracing your jaw, his touch surprisingly soft compared to the tight grip he had on your wrist.
"You've always been mine, little raven," he said quietly, his thumb brushing your bottom lip.
And then he kissed you.
It wasn't soft or sweet at all. His mouth was demanding, pushing against yours with an urgency that took your breath away. He pressed you back until your shoulders hit the cool stone of the wall, trapping you in.
He let go of your wrist and tangled his fingers in your hair, tilting your head to make the kiss deeper. His other hand moved down your back, pulling you against him so you could feel his arousal through your robes. A gasp slipped out, and he seized the chance, slipping his tongue inside to explore and claim you.
Your hands flew around his neck, pulling him closer. You wanted to crawl inside his skin, to consume him, to be consumed by him.
He broke the kiss, both of you panting, your foreheads pressed together. The night air was cold on your swollen lips.
He leaned in again, but this time his kiss was softer. It felt different, almost like he was cherishing the moment after that intense passion from before. His lips moved against yours slowly, setting a rhythm that made your legs feel a little wobbly. One of his hands slid from your back to your hip, his thumb drawing little circles, sending shivers all over you.
"Y/n," he murmured against your lips, making your name sound almost sacred. "You’ve gotta tell me this is real."
"It's real," you promised.
That was all the permission he needed.
His mouth reclaimed yours with a renewed hunger, his hands growing bolder. He found the clasp of your school robes, his fingers fumbling with it for a moment before it came undone with a soft click. The heavy wool pooled at your feet, leaving you in the thin white blouse and skirt.
He reached out and slowly, deliberately, began to unbutton your blouse. His fingers were calloused from Quidditch, rough against your skin. One button. Two. Three. He took his time, his eyes never leaving yours, watching your every reaction.
When your blouse was open, he pushed it off your shoulders, letting it fall to the stone floor. You stood before him in your simple white bra and skirt.
"You're so beautiful, little raven." He reached out and traced the lacy edge of your bra with his fingertips. "Merlin, I've thought about this. About what you'd look like. In bed, under me."
His words sent a fresh wave of heat through you. He leaned down and kissed the hollow of your throat. His kiss felt warm and open, and he traced a line down your neck to your collarbone. You tilted your head back, letting him have better access, a soft sigh slipping from your lips. His hands were on your waist, holding you steady.He found the sensitive spot behind your ear, and you couldn't stop the moan that rose in your throat. He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound against your skin.
"I knew you'd be sensitive here," he murmured. "I spent an entire Transfiguration lesson once just watching the way you'd twist your hair when you were concentrating, wondering if you'd make that same little sound if I put my mouth right… here." He punctuated his words with a sharp nip of his teeth, and you jolted, a gasp torn from your lips.
"Jungkook," you breathed.
"Tell me what you want, pretty," he commanded, his mouth moving back up to claim yours in a searing kiss. "Tell me, Y/n."
You couldn't form the words. All you could do was hold on tighter, arching against him, a silent, desperate plea for more.
He seemed to understand. He broke the kiss, breathing heavily, "Can't talk? That's okay. I can do all the talking."
His hands moved from your waist to the small of your back, tracing the curve of your spine before sliding down to grab your ass through the fabric of your skirt. He squeezed, pulling you tight against him, and you gasped as you felt his hard cock pressing into your stomach.
"You feel that?" he said, his lips close to your ear. "That's what you do to me. You've been doing it for years. Every time you walked into a room, every time you answered a question in class, even when you just breathed in my direction."
His hands were restless now, roaming over your body, learning the shape of you. He slid one hand up your side, his thumb brushing against the side of your breast. You whimpered, pushing into his touch, needing more.
"Patience, I've waited too long for this to rush it."
But his own patience was running out. He let out a frustrated groan, reached behind you, and struggled a bit with your bra's clasp. It clicked open, and he tossed it aside with the rest of your clothes. The night air hit your bare skin, and your nipples instantly got hard.
Jungkook stilled, his gaze fixed on your chest. "Fuck, you're perfect."
He reached out, his hand lingering for a second before he grabbed one of your breasts, his palm warm and heavy. He ran his thumb over your already hard nipple, and you let out a gasp.
"Shh," he murmured, leaning down to take the other into his mouth. "We don't want to bring the whole castle up here, do we?"
His mouth was hot and wet, a shocking contrast to the cold air. He swirled his tongue around the sensitive peak, then sucked, hard. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands, holding him to you. He gave attention to your breasts, alternating between them, his mouth and hands working in rhythm.
Just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, he pulled back, his breathing ragged.
"I need to see all of you," he said, his voice a raw, rough command.
He dropped to his knees before you, He looked up at you from his position. He reached out and placed his hands on your hips, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of your skirt. You nodded.
Slowly, he peeled your skirt down your legs, his fingers tracing the path of the fabric as it went. He followed it with his mouth, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your hips, your stomach, the tops of your thighs. You were trembling.
When your skirt was around your ankles, you where in nothing but your simple cotton underwear.
"You're shaking," he observed, his voice soft.
"You're doing this to me," you managed to say, your voice barely audible.
"I haven't even started yet."
He hooked his fingers into the sides of your panties and slowly pulled them down. You stepped out of them. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss under your navel, his lips soft and gentle. You gasped, your hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself.
"Jungkook," you pleaded, not even sure what you were begging for.
"I know," he murmured against your skin. "I know."
He shifted, settling between your thighs. He looked up at you one last time, and then he lowered his head.
The first touch of his tongue against your clit was a lick and it sent a shockwave of pleasure through you so intense your knees buckled. He held you steady, his hands gripping your hips, while his mouth working its magic.
He didn’t hold back. He explored you with his. He circled your clit, then flicked it, then sucked it into his mouth. Your world was just the sensation of his mouth on you, the rough slide of his tongue, the desperate sounds of your own breathing.
You were babbling now, a stream of incoherent pleas and praises. "Please, Jungkook, yes, don't stop, please, please, please…"
He didn't stop. He increased his pace, his movements becoming more urgent, more demanding. He slid one hand from your hip, his fingers finding your entrance. He teased you for a moment, circling the opening, before sliding one long finger inside you.
You cried out, your inner walls clenching around him. He began to move his finger in time with the movements of his tongue while you were closer to the edge. He added a second finger, stretching you.
"Come for me, Y/n, let me feel it, let me taste you."
With a final, desperate cry, you orgasmed. It left you breathless and shaking, and he held you through it, his mouth and fingers milking every last drop of your slick.
Once the shaking finally stopped, he stood up and wrapped his arms around you. You sank against him, your head on his chest, listening to his heart. He just held you for a while, gently running his fingers through your hair.
"You're gorgeous," he murmured.
You looked up and kissed him. You could taste yourself on his lip, his tongue sliding into your mouth. He was still fully dressed, and the rough texture of his robes felt amazing against your bare skin. All you could think about was wanting to feel him fully, wanting to see him.
You pulled back, your hands going to the front of his robes. "Your turn."
He watched you as you fumbled with the clasp of his robes. Your fingers were clumsy with urgency, but you finally managed to get it open. You pushed the heavy fabric off his shoulders, and it joined yours on the stone floor.
He was wearing a simple black shirt underneath. You made quick work of the buttons, your hands brushing against the warm, hard plane of his chest. He was lean and muscular, his body a testament to years of Quidditch training.
Your fingers trembled as they traced the lines of his chest, feeling the steady, rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. You pushed the black shirt off his shoulders, and it joined the growing pile of discarded clothing on the cold stone floor. You reached out, your fingers tracing the lines of his abs, feeling them tighten under your touch. He sucked in a sharp breath, his hands coming to rest on your waist.
"Your hands are cold," he murmured, a low rumble in his chest.
"Sorry," you whispered, but you didn't stop touching him.
"Don't be," he said, his voice thick.
His skin was warm, and you could feel the fine tremor running through him, a mirror to your own. He was magnificent, and he was all yours.
Your gaze drifted downward, to the very obvious bulge straining against the fabric of his trousers. You swallowed hard.
"Like what you see, little raven?" he asked, his voice a low, husky rumble.
Instead of answering, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his chest, right over his heart. You could feel it thumping against your mouth. You kissed your way across his chest, your tongue darting out to taste the salty skin, to trace his collarbones. His hands came up to rest on your back, his fingers digging into your flesh as if he needed to anchor himself.
With a surge of confidence, you let your hand drift lower, palming him through his trousers. He groaned. His hips jerked forward instinctively, seeking more friction.
You knelt before him, just as he had done for you, your gaze fixed on the button of his trousers. Your hands shook as you undid it, the sound of the zipper loud. You looked up at him, your eyes wide, and saw the raw, naked hunger on his face.
You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and slowly pulled them down. His cock sprang free, hard and thick. It was bigger than you'd imagined, the head flushed, a bead of moisture glistening at the tip.
Your breath hitched in your throat. You'd seen boys before; you’d seen Minjae, but this was different.
You reached out a trembling hand and wrapped your fingers around him. He was hot and hard in your grasp, the skin velvety soft over the rigid core. He let out a harsh groan, his hips bucking forward instinctively.
"Fuck, Y/n," his head falling back. "Don't… don't tease."
You weren't teasing. You were exploring. You ran your thumb over the head, smearing the bead of pre-cum over the sensitive skin. He shuddered, a full-body tremor that ran through him like a wave.
"You don't have to."
“Shut up, Jeon, I want to.”
You leaned in and flicked your tongue against the tip, tasting the salty, slightly bitter flavor of him.
He hissed, his hands flying to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands. "Y/n," he warned, his voice strained. "I'm serious. If you… if you do that…"
You looked up at him, your lips hovering just a breath away from his cock. "If I do what?" you whispered boldly.
"Gods," he groaned, his eyes squeezing shut. "If you put your mouth on me, I won't be able to control myself. I'll… I'll fuck your mouth. And I don't want to do that. Not yet."
His words sent a fresh wave of heat to your core. He wanted you so much he was afraid of his own reaction.
You took a deep breath and made your choice. You wanted to taste him, to feel him, to give him the same mind-blowing pleasure he had just given you. You wanted to see him lose control.
You wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around the sensitive tip. He cried out, his fingers tightening in your hair, his hips jerking forward. You took more of him into your mouth.
You couldn't take all of him, not at first, but you tried. You relaxed your jaw and took him deeper, your hand working the base of his shaft in time with the movements of your mouth. He was breathing heavily now, his head thrown back, his eyes closed. The sounds he was making were driving you crazy.
He was right. He couldn't control himself. His hips began to move, a slow, shallow rocking at first, then faster, deeper, his cock hitting the back of your throat.
"Y/n, fuck, your mouth… so good… gods.”
"Fuck, yes, just like that. Your mouth is so fucking good."
You hollowed your cheeks, sucking harder, and he cried out, his whole body tensing. You could feel him getting closer, his thrusts becoming more erratic.
“Y/n, I'm gonna…"
He tried to pull back, to warn you, but you held on. With a final groan, he came, his hot, salty release flooding your mouth. You swallowed, your throat working, milking him for every last drop.
“You crazy little witch,” he murmured against your lips, his voice hoarse.
You chuckled softly.
He shifted, his body covering yours. He was already hard again, his cock pressing against your thigh.
"I need to be inside you. Are you ready for me, little raven?" he murmured against your lips.
You nodded frantically. He reached between your legs, his fingers finding your clit. You were still wet from your earlier orgasm, and his fingers slid easily through your folds. He circled your clit, then slid two fingers inside you, testing your readiness.
"Mhm, You're so wet for me," he said.
"All for you," you echoed.
His fingers stroked and teased you until you were squirming beneath him, begging. He reached between you, guiding his cock to your entrance.
"Look at me, clever girl," he commanded, his voice low and intense.
You forced your eyes open, and he held your gaze as he slowly, deliberately, pushed into you.
There was a brief, sharp sting as he stretched you, and you cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders. He stilled.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
You took a deep breath, the pain already starting to fade. "I'm okay," you said. "Don't stop."
He began to thrust slowly and deeply at first, then faster, harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the silent room.
"Harder," you gasped, your voice a raw, desperate plea. "Jungkook, harder."
His movements becoming almost brutal, his cock pounding into you, driving you closer and closer to the edge.
"You're so tight, sweetheart," he gritted out, his fingers digging into your thighs. "So fucking perfect."
He reached between you again, his fingers finding your clit. He rubbed it in time with his thrusts, and you felt your orgasm building again. Your entire body tensed, your muscles locking up as the pleasure increased.
"Come for me, Y/n," he commanded, his voice strained. "Come with me."
With a final, brutal thrust and a hard pinch of your clit, you orgasmed. You screamed his name, your body shaking underneath him, your inner walls clamping down on his cock in a series of powerful, rhythmic spasms. He fucked you through it, his thrusts becoming erratic, his control finally breaking as your body milked him. With a loud, guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, his own orgasm crashing over him, and you felt the hot, powerful pulse of his release as he spilled into you.
He collapsed on top of you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You were both panting, your bodies sweaty and trembling. He didn't move for a long time, and you didn't want him to. You wrapped your arms around his back, holding him close.
“Hi," he whispered, a small, crooked smile playing on his lips.
You laughed, a breathy, soundless puff of air. "Hi," you whispered back.
He leaned down and kissed you gently. "Are you okay?" he asked again, his thumb gently stroking your cheek.
"I'm more than okay," you whispered.
He smiled, a genuine, brilliant smile that lit up his entire face. He kissed your forehead, your nose, your lips.
“Me too," he murmured against your skin.
With a soft sigh, he carefully withdrew, the loss of his warmth making you shiver. He grabbed the heavy wool of the discarded school robes and draped them over you both.
"You’re going to have bruises," you murmured. "I'm sorry," you said, your voice thick with regret. "I got... carried away. I didn't hurt you, did I? Truly?" You shifted, propping yourself up on your elbow to look down at him.
He reached up and cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking his skin. "No, little raven. You didn't hurt me. Plus, I like them, they're a reminder."
"A reminder that you’re mine?" you asked.
"Mhm, always," he confirmed. "So. What do we do now, Y/n?"
"We walk out of here, and tomorrow, we sit together at breakfast. And I’ll sit at your table, and you’ll hold my hand, and we won't care who sees."
"Just like that? You know…Y/n, my father-"
"Just like that," you confirmed.
He buried his face in your hair, his arms tightening around you like he was afraid you might disappear.
"I love you," he whispered, the words muffled against your skin. "I think I've loved you since the 4th year.”
You laughed, "I thought you were an arrogant, Quidditch-obsessed boy. and I love you too."
"I am," he said, pulling back to grin at you. "But I'm your arrogant, Quidditch-obsessed boy."
Eventually, you knew you had to move, because the night couldn't last forever, but this time you risked it for the biscuit and walked down with him in the dungeons. Jimin had luckily gone somewhere, maybe also dealing with his little secret.
When morning came, Jimin's jaw practically hit the floor, his eyes darting from Jungkook's smug face to the copper hair peeking out from the duvet.
Jungkook pulled the duvet higher over the still asleep Y/n, shielding her, and looked at Jimin with a look of absolute, smug triumph. His voice was a low, morning rasp.
"Morning, Jimin. Close the door."
"Close the door? JK, you have a Ravenclaw, a Head Girl, in your bed!" He gestured wildly with one hand. "Do you have any idea what happens if a Prefect walks in? Or a professor? Or the entire school?"
Jungkook yawned lazily, not moving an inch, his arm remaining locked around you. His voice was thick and rough, devoid of any guilt.
"Then they'll know." He looked down at you, his gaze softening into something sweet, before he looked back at Jimin. "Now, I said, close the door, Jimin. Unless you want to be the one to tell the Gryffindor Golden Boy that his ex-girlfriend spent the night in the snake pit."
Jimin scoffed and left the room.
Jungkook didn't move to get up. Instead, he shifted, his chest vibrating as he chuckled. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a teasing, low vibration. "Wake up, little monster. We have an audience."
Y/n groaned and buried her face deeper in his chest. "Five more minutes. Are we doomed?"
"We're not doomed," he said, his eyes soft. "We're just beginning." He leaned in and kissed you. When he pulled back, he was smiling. "Now, get dressed, Head Girl. You have a castle to run. And I have a rumor to start."
You looked at him, "What rumor?"
He grinned, "The one that says Jeon Jungkook finally got his girl."
▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰
a/n: I hope you guys enjoyed this. i have been obsessed with H.P. and Hogwarts Legacy lately, and I couldn't bring myself to not write something, even if I'm graduating next month and my mind is everywhere ;-;
little blurb! lust potion, overstim, james potter x reader
“Ah—s-slow down, honey—” James’s face burned a deep, flushed crimson, his messy hair plastered to his sweaty forehead. His hazel eyes were half-lidded with exhaustion, lashes fluttering as he struggled to catch his breath.
“Can’t, Jamie… it burns,” you whimpered, voice wrecked and desperate. But you didn’t slow. You couldn’t. Your hips slammed down harder, grinding your abused clit against the base of his cock in frantic, sloppy circles, sending sharp electric shocks up your spine. Thick globs of your mixed cum leaked obscenely from your puffy, wrecked pussy with every brutal bounce, coating his balls and the sheets in a slick, filthy mess.
His spent length twitched violently inside your tight, dripping cunt, hypersensitive and aching, yet still rock-hard thanks to the lingering effects of the lust potion. Whoever had slipped it into your drink had clearly never imagined you’d ride him raw all night like this—relentless, insatiable, milking him for every last drop.
Yet here you were still taking him, drop for drop, your greedy pussy clenching and fluttering around his throbbing cock as if you’d never stop.
Your full tits bounced wildly, nipples hard and glistening with sweat, while your pupils were completely blown, eyes black with potion-fueled lust. You looked feral. Possessed. “P-Please… help me. Need it—need your cock so bad, need more—”
James groaned, wrecked and helpless. He’d started the night furious, ready to murder whoever spiked your drink. Now he was just a panting, overused mess, his poor cock red, swollen, and hypersensitive after being milked dry multiple times. He didn’t think he had anything left.
But fuck… he could never deny you.
With a desperate, guttural sound, he thrust up weakly into your sloppy, cum-drenched cunt, the wet squelch loud and obscene as your greedy walls clenched around his thick length. Your eyes rolled back instantly, a broken, slutty moan ripping from your throat.
“Fuck take it,” he rasped, voice hoarse, gripping your hips with trembling hands and forcing you down onto every fat inch. “Fuckin’ milk me dry, honey. Use me till I’ve got nothing left.”
You rode him even harder, pussy fluttering and gushing around his twitching cock, lost in the endless, burning haze of the lust potion.
By the time the potion finally began to fade, James was a boneless, shuddering wreck beneath you his cock spent, voice gone, body covered in sweat and cum, while you collapsed onto his chest, still weakly grinding against him, whimpering for just one more.
