Summary: You and Draco have hated each other forever—until detention, a late-night walk back, and a crack in your armor changes everything.
CW: emotional distress, inflicted injury (umbridge made her cameo I fear), mild swearing— nothing crazy
Hi my darlings!!
I’m so excited to be so close to fall (aka Harry Potter season)! Enjoy this short Draco oneshot while I cook up some longer and more chaotic ones >:)
As always, requests are open!
♥︎ Xo, pauper
Dividers by @strangergraphics
The dungeons always felt colder after the sunset.
The kind of cold that slipped under your sweater and nestled against your bones, making even your thoughts shiver.
You had been in Snape’s detention room for two hours, your quill scratching over the lines of I will not waste the class’s time, when the door swung open.
And there he was. Draco Malfoy.
Pale, smug, perfectly pressed even at this hour— the universe’s cruel joke.
“Of course,” he said, the words laced with drawl, “I get stuck with you.”
You didn’t look up from your parchment. “Mutual disappointment, Malfoy.”
Earlier that day, you’d been paired together in potions. His constant commentary— “You’re chopping too slowly,” “That’s not the right clockwise turn”— had you so flustered you added the peppermint sprigs too soon, and the cauldron hissed into a sticky mauve. Snape’s lips had thinned, and here you both were.
The room was quiet, save for the faint scratching of quills. Draco tapped his quill against the desk— in rhythm with your pulse, irritatingly.
It was nearly curfew when Snape dismissed you. You gathered your things quickly, wanting to disappear before Draco could say anything cutting. But as you slipped into the corridor, your chest gave a quiet, traitorous ache.
It had been building for days. Umbridge’s punishments— the special kind, the one that carved I must not voice my opinion into the skin of your hand— still burned. You’d hidden it under oversized sleeves, smiled through classes, but here, in the echoing dungeons, something in you cracked.
You ducked into the shadow of a column, pressing your back to the stone, willing the tears to go unnoticed.
“Hey—” His voice was closer than expected.
You froze.
“Are you—” He stopped mid-question. You could feel him noticing the streaked mascara, the redness in your eyes.
“It’s nothing,” you muttered.
He didn’t believe you— you could see it in the way his brows pulled together, the arrogance drained from his face.
“Was it… her? Umbridge?”
You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to. He reached for your wrist. You flinched— not from him, but from the way the sleeve shifted, revealing angry, crimson words etched into your skin.
Something broke in him then. His breath hitched, barely audible. “Y/n…”
You expected mockery, maybe even a sharp “Why didn’t you—?” But instead, he let go, as though the touch had burned him. His once was quieter than you’d ever heard it.
“I never hated you,” he said. “You drive me mad, yes— but that’s because I…” he trailed off, swallowing. “Because I wanted you to notice me.”
You stared. “By making me want to drown you in a cauldron?”
His lips twitched. “Apparently, my strategy was flawed.”
The corridor was hushed again, except for the uneven breaths you both shared. And in that stillness, you realized his eyes— usually sharp, calculating— had softened, silver catching the low torchlight like melted coin.
You weren’t ready to forgive him entirely. But when he shrugged off his robe and draped it over your shoulders, smelling faintly of cedar and something crisp, you let it stay.
Maybe, you thought, some walls are worth letting crack.
It was the end of the year Gryffindor party, and everyone was dressed to impress, including you. You entered with the marauders and quickly lost them in the huge crowd.
“Do you want a drink?” Marlene asked without greeting you, simply cutting to the chase.
A nod satisfied her before she shoved a plastic cup in your hands.
“Enjoy.” she winked, smiling. The gap between her teeth showed through her lips, adding to her beauty.
Drinking always ended with sad reminiscing and crying, it was freeing to just cry it out but you always felt embarrassed for yourself the next morning.
Many refills later you were seated alone at the corner of the party, resting your head on your hands. It was isolating to say the least.
Everyone seemed to be having a blast. You couldn't spot a familiar face and it was exhausting to make small talk with people you hardly know.
You caught the eye of Remus who was peeking through the crowd, and watched him make his way to you.
"Hey? Why are you alone?"
"Fate, I guess." You grumbled, looking up at him, your speech slightly slurred.
He laughed softly, a smile on his face.
"How drunk are you?" He asked, taking a seat next to you, mimicking your pose.
"Not drunk enough." You sighed, looking at no one in particular.
He snorted, "Clearly enough."
"Why aren't you with them?" You said, gesturing at the incomplete marauders.
"You want me to go?" Remus joked, getting up.
You held his wrist, "No, stay."
He paused, looking at his hand with raised eyebrows, his chest still.
"I like your company." You admitted, letting go of his arm.
"Alright." he sat back down, exhaling quietly, "It was getting too loud for me, and I missed you." He admitted bluntly, the alcohol fueling his confidence.
"You did? Oh Remus," You smiled and hugged him as tightly as you could.
He gladly accepted it with a faint smile, but his expression quickly changed; "I can't breathe." He choked.
"Don't care." You reply, smiling against his shoulder. The smell of cigarette smoke and chocolate on his shirt comforted you.
After a few seconds, you let go and looked at him.
“Thank you.” you said, admiring him.
“For what?” He crooked his head.
Your body slumped on him, feeling safe before you passed out in his arms.
—
You woke up feeling like you fought a war by yourself. Opening your eyes with blurry vision and sweat covering your body uncomfortably didn't help your mood.
As your vision cleared you noticed, the room wasn't yours, posters of bands you didn't know, and a mess beyond repair in front of you but not around you made you more aware of your surroundings.
This is Remus’ bed.
You sat up, rubbing your eyes with a throbbing headache. You noticed a note and a tablet with some water.
“Remus.” You sighed fondly.
Gratefully taking the tablet and reading the note, your mood was improved significantly.
Dear,
I left you some aspirin and water by the bedside table, hope you feel better soon!
Love,
Remus.
Putting the sweet note in your pocket, you got up with the dormitory empty and quiet, a stark difference from the usual.
You walked down the stairs into the common room where Remus was there, along with other hungover classmates from different houses.
If the staff wanted the houses to bond, you thought, looking around; they should just throw parties for them.
You waved at Remus, who smiled showing a cup of coffee in reply.
Walking over to him, you thanked him with a wide smile, picking up the cup.
“You are the first name in my will, hope you know that.” you said before sipping your coffee.
You hummed, sitting down beside him,”from my land to my hairclips, everything is yours.”
“And what land do you own?”
“That's none of your business.” You smiled bashfully, sipping your coffee.
Remus laughed and stared at you fondly, a soft expression on his face.
Basking in his presence, you decided to not say anything.
—
It was currently 2 am and only the Marauders and you, Lily, Marlene, and Dorcas were in the common room. The fireplace crackled, the room filled with warmth and dim flickering light.
The common room was filled with light chatter and everyone was sitting in small groups, scattered around the room. There were cups in every hand, filled with hot chocolate.
Lily, Marlene and Dorcas were trying to find out about your crush, but you didn't have one.
“See, we all know you have feelings for someone, just tell us!” Dorcas said, her tone desperate.
“What? No! I don't like anyone and how would you guys know before me?” you asked, eager to shift the spotlight.
“It's so obvious! Even a blind person could tell you this! You like-", Marlene's sentence was left incomplete, interrupted by Dorcas’ impatience. Lily glared at her through the side of her eye, and Marlene rolled her eyes in reply.
“Wait Marls, I'm the romantic out of us all, let me say it!”
Marlene shrugged and let her continue, agreeing with her. Lily and you had your mouths open in shock at Marlene's unusual behaviour, while Dorcas looked pleased.
Dorcas’ eyes lit up and she started her revelation cinematically. Her voice was low but clear, her expression focused.
“It's a slow but steady process but it's so beautiful. when you start to like someone, it starts out small- the wind sounds like a song, the moon is a bit bigger and shines brighter-”
"That's small?" Marlene commented.
“Woah, woah, woah, this is when you fall in love, not a crush!” you argue, a bit stressed.
“Well, as I said, it's a process! Falling in love! That's what it leads to! Everything leads to love!” She clarifies with a dreamy sigh.
Lily and Marlene have very differing opinions but they decided to just let Dorcas be. Lily always says that you can control who you fall for and that she will fall in love with someone who’s just like her. But whenever she says it, she seems down and no one believes her words. Everyone knows sooner or later she and James will end up together.
Marlene on the other hand, believed that everyone had ill intentions and decided to never fall in love but this statement had no truth in it at all, because she was head over heels in love with Dorcas and everyone could see it except Dorcas. Her longing stares and allowing Dorcas to do anything to her and would literally kill anyone else if they attempted the same.
As Dorcas continued her ‘process of falling in love’ speech, you realised it was familiar. With each point, your eyes became wider and face redder. You knew exactly what she was talking about and who she was talking about.
Do I like Remus?
Remus glanced at you, expecting you to say something to him. You looked away quickly, instead looked at your hands, watching your nail polish shimmer.
His eyes broke you out of a dream, Lily, Marlene and Dorcas, all had accomplished looks on their faces, as if they knew all along. They probably did.
You look over to Remus, his brown eyes sparkling in the light, his skin pale, a contrast to his scars. His sweater was a perfect fit, the green of his sweater complimenting his eyes perfectly. He was perfect in every sense. His lips looked so soft, inviting you to go over to him and kiss him. He looked divine, too holy to scar and yet. But it was so beautiful, you couldn't imagine a better person.
After what felt like hours of staring, you replied nonchalant, "nothing." At Least you tried.
Afraid he would find out about your newly discovered feelings for him, you broke eye contact. You could see his brows furrowing through the side of your eyes.
Conversations resumed, which meant you had to explain your reaction, which you dreaded.
"Finally! It was exhausting!" Marlene sighed, looking at you with wide eyes.
"Give her a break, it's so romantic!" Dorcas exclaimed, smiling wide.
"I'm proud," Lily confessed, "I was dying to tell you."
Your face felt hot, memories of you and Remus kept playing in your mind. You could finally put a name to what you've been feeling for so long. It was relieving and scary at once.
What if that's just the way Remus is? What if he never realises it? and I'm left all alone? What if he finds someone better before anything happens?
"Hey, it's okay alright? You guys are meant to be! Nothing to worry about!" Lily consoled, noticing your expressions.
"But now that I know, what am I supposed to do? I can't go on behaving the same!" you exclaimed, your face hot.
"Yes you can, you behave the same way with a few adjustments!"
"What adjustments?" you ask, desperately.
"Well, you could flirt more,-"
Marlene's words were ignored because you were watching Remus laugh.
His eyes crinkled at its sides, his canine teeth seen from his wide smile. His scars appeared darker in the warm light. It was a beautiful sight, the light dancing on his face, his chest shaking with laughter, his veined hand on his knee.
You have him memorised, you realised. You could paint him from memory and not miss a single detail, but it would never compare to him in real life.
He looked at you and raised his eyebrow, asking a silent question. Are you okay? You nod your head lightly with a dazed smile. He shakes his head, amused.
—
Now that you've realised your feelings for a certain werewolf, it's hard to be normal around him. He's too overwhelmingly perfect.
You were running late to your first class of the day, Transfiguration. Your hair was flying through the wind, running in the hallways. You stopped at the door, looking for Mcgonagall.
"You're late again." a firm voice behind you spoke.
"I overslept, I'm so sorry professor." you said, startled, flinching when she spoke.
"That's not an excuse, 10 points from Gryffindor."
"But-"
"Take your seat." Professor Mcgonagall interrupted you before you could protest. If you were given the chance, you'd argue for the whole day.
There were two seats free, one next to Remus and one next to a Ravenclaw.
You paused for a second and sat with the ravenclaw, who's name you learned was Summer.
Summer was nice but couldn't keep Remus off your mind. You could feel his stare burning the back of your head, you kept wiping your hands on your cloak.
The safest option was to limit interacting with him until you could control yourself.
This new arrangement continued for a week along with panicking whenever you'd interact with Remus. It was pure torture, you yearned to be in his presence but your newly discovered feelings stopped you.
You would run through the hallways, only relaxing when you thought you were far from facing Remus' confrontation.
This decision took a toll on you. As much as you preferred Remus to think of you as a sweet, nonchalant friend, it hurt just as much to stay away from him and watch his heart break everyday.
One fine day, after a long week, Remus caught up with you.
"Really?" Remus gasped out, breathless from chasing you throughout the school.
"Wh- how?" you replied, amazed by his speed.
"Why are you acting weird?" he asked, ignoring your question. His heart pounding, his hand fidgeting with his cloak.
"I'm not feeling well actually. I need some time alone." you lied, your gaze trained at his eyes. You read somewhere keeping eye contact convinces the person to believe your lie.
"Liar."
Well, never mind.
"I know you, you're clingy when you're not well. This is the opposite." Remus continued, confused at your behaviour and hurt by your lie.
"That's not true-" you tried to defend yourself.
"Just tell me the truth." Remus pleaded quietly, his eyes sad.
He looked tired. his bags under his eyes were darker than before, his skin paler and hair unkempt. It was evident it affected him worse.
It was now or never. You'd deal with the consequences when it was time.
“I think I like you- no I definitely do. and it's okay if you don't feel the same. I can get over it, at least I hope. I know I probably ruined our friendship forever but I can't pretend anymore and I can't see you like this. I’m really sorry i promise for keeping you in the dark for so long and now ruining the one nice thing i have-”
“I like you too.” Remus confessed, cutting your speech off. He looked relieved, his posture relaxed, showing his lanky form.
You didn't realise how close Remus had come, feeling his faint breath on your cheek.
“Are you sure?” you asked, wary of his answer, a fear he would change his mind overtook your thoughts.
He didn't answer, instead leaned towards you and pecked your cheek.
Your face flamed up, the wind on your face felt cool. He looked into your eyes, smiling. You smiled back, heart pounding.
PAIRING regulus black x gn!reader. WARNINGS none, only angst. GENRE angst. WC 803 words. A/N just some angst while i work on other fics </3 another regulus black fic coming but it kinda ?? has a happy ending, its much longer than this one (if im patient enough) but anyways enjoy this and pls don't hate me i'll come up with a fluff fic as an apology if anyone wants one </3
↳ m.list | harry potter m.list
"REGGIE," A PLAYFUL SMILE WAS EVIDENT ON YOUR FACE, as you made your way towards him. No matter how much time he spent with you, he still never really got over the butterflies you gave him. The feeling of pure happiness reaching his heart. If not a lot, just a bit. It would still be enough for him. "You never call me to meet you in the middle of the night like this."
"Well," he shrugged, watching you come closer, and standing beside him as the both of you laid your hands on the railing, looking at the sky above. "Things change, I suppose."
Oh boy, did they change.
You were called here, earlier today. Regulus passed a note to you during one of your shared classes, a small parchment of paper with the words quickly scribbled on, "Meet me at the astronomy tower, at midnight."
You and Regulus were secret lovers anyway, so it was normal for him to pass you notes, or for you to give him some too, deciding on times for the both of you two to meet. But at such a late time like this? That was a first.
There's always a first to everything, so obviously, you showed up. Maybe more out of curiosity. You trusted Regulus, so there was no need for you to worry, you had nothing but love stored in your heart for him.
"Why'd you want to meet me here anyway?" A frown found its way to your face as you saw him shift a bit uncomfortably, avoiding your eyes. You tightened your grip on the tower's railing, "are you alright darling?"
You reached out to him and touched his arm, expecting him to fall into your embrace searching for comfort, as he always did, but what shocked you was when he stepped back and looked at the ground below him. Your worried frown deepened. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.
"Y/N," he called out to you gently, though you could clearly tell his voice was shaky, as if he was about to start crying any moment now. "I think we should... not stay together. We shouldn't be together."
The silence between the both of you made Regulus feel like he was choking, the air around him became colder.
It wasn't until you decided to speak up, which made it harder to breathe for Regulus. "What?"
"I would like to not repeat myself." He swallowed nervously.
"You're joking right?" You chuckled humorously, "this has to be some sick joke. No way, there is absolutely no way. Tell me you're joking Regulus. Tell me!"
Angry tears streamed down your face, making Regulus tear up as well. The love of his life, was crying in front of him, all because of him. He hated it. He hated that feeling.
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what? No, tell me Regulus!" You were yelling at this point, not caring if anybody hears you. "What is it that is going on? Please, tell me, I'll help you. I'll do anything. Just don't leave me."
You were practically begging at this point, Regulus began to cry at the sight, sobs escaping him. "You can't do anything! I'm trying to keep you safe. I can't let you get dragged into this as well! Don't you understand?"
"No I don't understand Regulus, what is it this oh so dangerous thing that you're trying to keep me safe from by leaving me behind and breaking my heart in the process?" The words kept leaving your mouth one after the other, your cries were still heard by him.
"This!" Regulus yelled, as he raised his sleeve, showing the newly plastered dark mark. You could recognize it anywhere, your hands shot up to your mouth as you covered it in shock. "This is what I'm trying to keep you safe from!"
"Stop." Your eyes stayed focused on the mark on his arm, you shook your head in disbelief.
The both of you grew quiet.
"Regulus..." You sighed and sobbed some more, "it's alright, it's alright," you didn't know who you were trying to comfort or reassure at this point, Regulus or yourself, "we'll get through this together Regulus. I'll help you."
"I'm sorry."
"You don't have to be sorry, we'll get through this, Regulus. We will get through this. Together."
"I'm sorry." He shook his head, looking at you with his glossy eyes. He walked away slowly.
"No, Regulus. Where are you going?" You sobbed even more as you fell down to your knees, yelling at him to come back to you. "Regulus please! Regulus no, don't leave me!"
But he did not stop, yet his body shook as his sobs escaped him, every time you yelled.
That would be one of the last times you'd ever see your first love, and then, never again.
Summary: Draco takes the reader out for a drive-thru in a Muggle fast food, but they did not prepare the reader’s order properly. inspired by a prompt i got from this generator
Words: 1.6k
Category: FLUUUFFF
Warnings: light thigh touching, light cursing
Disclaimer: GIF NOT MINE! I do not own any of the characters in this story.
A/N: HAVE SOME FLUFF MILOVES
“I don’t understand, why can’t we just Apparate or use tacky Floo powder or something?” said Draco, with a hint of a whine in his voice.
“Because it’s a drive-thru, and I want you to see it for yourself. Now get in.” [Y/N] shoved Draco into the passenger seat, shutting the door harder than she should have.
As they exited the parking lot, [Y/N] suggested the I Spy game. It didn’t work out well as planned.
“I spy with my little eye. . .a mistake.” Draco said, his eyes scouring the view as other cars drove past each other. “Very big one.”
“You talking about me?” joked [Y/N].
“What? No! It’s just outside and it’s really tall.”
“Uh. . .I don’t know. Are you criticizing the highway we’re on or what?”
As McDonald’s loomed closer into view, Draco pointed out the tall drive-thru sign. “That’s the answer, I win.”
“What even is the mistake?”
“The sign! Did they really have to spell it like that? Why not drive-through with the O-G-H? It’s not that hard.” Draco muttered, mocking the tall sign of the McDonald’s drive-thru sign. “Lazy Muggles.”
[Y/N] couldn’t help but smile. Was he insufferable? Definitely. But this was the most comfortable she had been this summer. Having just gotten her driver’s license, [Y/N] decided to take her boyfriend out to something he’s never been in before. Being a half-blood herself, she knew he wouldn’t know a thing about the Muggle world, which gave her a number of ideas for more dates in the future.
“Alright, we’re here.” She said, slowing down in front of a window. A young woman — maybe older than them for a few years — leaned forward, and asked them what their order was.
“What do you want, Draco?”
“What, you’re not gonna call me ‘love’ anymore? What’d I do?”
“Fine. What do you want, love?”
“What are you having?” He asked, squinting his eyes to scan the menu before them.
“Nuggets with gravy.” [Y/N] smiled politely at the attendant, who didn’t seem amused. She wanted to apologize, but Draco would probably launch into a full-on presentation out of no where as to why she should stop saying sorry for the stupidest things.
“Okay, then I’ll have that too and a float.”
“Perfect,” said [Y/N], excitedly. “You’re gonna love it. Do you want fries too?”
“Sure, I guess.” His eyes drifted to the scenery outside once more, then back to the menu. He had not taken Muggle studies in Hogwarts, so he hadn’t much knowledge of what any of these are called. His second elective was Divination, considering that he didn’t bother to interest himself in the world of Muggles. Of course, he wishes that he did take it so that he could impress his girlfriend better rather than asking what everything is every two seconds.
He watched her intently as she told the attendant their order. “Two six-piece McNuggets, make the sauces gravy instead of barbecue sauce. Got that down? Gra. . .vy. Okay, I’m sor—”
She paused, careful not to apologize. “Gravy. Then could you upgrade the drinks to coke floats instead? And we’d like two large fries as well.”
As the woman jotted it down, [Y/N] put in her mix tape into the car’s player. Always by Atlantic Starr started playing, capturing his attention. “This Muggle song isn’t so bad.”
“Stop calling everything you see a Muggle object, just enjoy it. And of course it’s good. It’s by Atlantic Starr.”
“Sounds a bit old, though. I like it nonetheless.”
“Well, duh. It was released around eleven years ago.” She rested her hand on his thigh, teasing him.
“Shouldn’t I be doing that?” he said, playing with her fingers.
“Sounds a bit old, though.” [Y/N] retorted, bringing up her hand to his cheeks, squeezing it gently. The attendant returned, handing them their receipt. [Y/N] pulled her hand away, pulling out her wallet.
“No, I’m paying.” Draco started to pull out his purse. He had them converted in Gringotts, which [Y/N] berated him for.
“Nope, my treat this time. Just enjoy the food and the view, Malfoy.”
She put her attention back to the steering wheel, driving to the next window. A different attendant handed them the two paper-bags containing their food. As they drove away, [Y/N] asked Draco to check their food.
“Two nugget boxes are here, the coke floats are right there, and. . .” He trailed off.
“And what? Did they forget your fries?”
“No, the fries are here but they only put one gravy. The other one’s barbecue sauce.” Draco pulled out the two containers, showing it.
“That’s fine, you can have the gravy.”
“What? No! Make a turn.” He started to stand straighter in his seat, opening the his window. “It’s not that far yet, make a turn.”
“It’s okay, you can have the gravy. I can’t make a turn right now. It’s not that big of a deal, sweetie.”
“Not that big of— you specifically told Ada to put gravy instead of barbecue sauce. You even repeated it. That git!”
“Ada?” [Y/N] laughed nervously.
“The cashier thingy girl in the first window! She had that name tag. Agh, they messed up your food.”
“No need to turn back, I told you already — it’s okay.” [Y/N] made to reach for his thigh again, but he was busy still searching the paper bag, as if it would appear out of no where. “We’ll just pull over and eat, okay?”
“No way.” Draco reached for the steering wheel, moving it on his own.
“What the— Stop! You’re gonna get us killed!” She swatted his hand away as horns from passing cars sounded. Although she did not see the faces of the drivers, she knew full well they were angry. “You’re gonna make me lose my license on the first week, stop it!”
“Make a turn, then.”
“Alright! Alright! Get your hands off the wheel now.” Irritated, she kept on driving to look for a vacant space to reverse the car. After getting back on trail on their way back to McDonald’s she didn’t talk. What the hell was he thinking?
“Now what?” She spatted, arms crossed as she waited for Draco’s answer while the car stopped in front of the drive-thru’s entrance.
He seemed almost bashful, but not quite. “Drive in. I just wanna have a talk with Ada.”
So she did, and as they slid into the first window, Draco took off his seatbelt, inching closer to [Y/N]’s seat, his head already poking out of the window.
Ada, not looking up from a book she was reading, said in a dead tone, “Welcome to McDonald’s, may I take your—”
“WHERE’S HER GRAVY?”
Shit, shit, shit, this is embarrassing.
The book, which [Y/N] could now see properly now that Draco had inched further into the window, was Chicken Soup for the Soul, and Ada had dropped it in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“She asked for the sauces to be gravy, but you gave us one gravy and one barbecue sauce. Care to explain yourself, Mug— Mug. . .Donald’s?”
“Shut up,” he whispered back. “Give us her gravy.”
Ada seemed dumbstruck, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You know, I can drive away right now.”
“Oh no, you wouldn’t. You’re all about keeping your wretched license.” He replied to her, still looking at Ada. It was an uncomfortable position, and if [Y/N] slumped down, she was sure she wouldn’t be able to breathe. “The gravy, Miss Ada, hand them over.”
“Merlin, Draco, sit down, I’ll handle it.” She pushed him away, putting him back to his seat, forcing the seatbelt shut and turned back to Ada, who was still frozen.
“Hi, sorry, Ada. Could I replace this barbecue sauce with gravy instead? There was a minor mistake.” [Y/N] grabbed the paper bag on Draco’s lap, shooting him one glare before pulling out the barbecue sauce and handing it to Ada.
The attendant stiffly turned away, grabbing a tiny container of gravy from a shelf, exchanging the barbecue sauce in [Y/N]’s hand. Boy, she looked uncomfortable.
“Thank you, dear.”
When they got out of the drive-thru, [Y/N] remained silent again for two minutes until a string of fries popped up in her line of view. “I’m driving, Draco.”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m feeding you. Hurry, they’re gonna get cold.” He waved the fry in his hand, holding it out in front of her face. “They’re delicious.”
“I know, Draco.”
Draco made a sad face, his hand clutching his chest in an effort to get her attention. “It hurts that you called that attendant ‘dear’ and you call me just that.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, give me the fry.”
Draco held out the fry again, and [Y/N] bit his hand as well, leaving tiny bite marks on his skinny fingers. “Ow! What was that for?”
“Swerving the wheel, throwing a tantrum in a drive-thru, and distracting me.”
“Well, no fair, I got you your gravy. I got you justice.” He started sipping his own coke float, making pathetic little puppy eyes as she pulled over at a mall’s parking lot.
“Whatever,” she squeezed his cheek again. “Weirdo.”
They started preparing their food. [Y/N] adjusted her seat so she could eat properly, and she couldn’t wait to indulge her favorite nuggets. Draco was the first to open his box, dipping one nugget into the gravy.
He took a bite and let out a satisfied moan. “Oh, Merlin, this is so good.”
“I know, right?” added [Y/N] as she chomped on her own.
“And you had the audacity to turn down coming back and getting your gravy!”
“Well, I could’ve shared with yours.”
“No way I’m sharing you my gravy.”
“Fair point, I wouldn’t share mine either.”
And with that, they ate in peace, savoring not just the food but the moment itself. It had been a very chaotic day, but their smiles of contentment was proof it’s what made them a great match.
And it worked for them, so who’s to say they’re a disaster together?
hi hi okay can u do something with cedric diggory and studying & it’s just super soft and fluffy 🥺 i love you <33
cedric diggory x fem!reader
warnings: none
fireside
embers flew in the glow of the fireplace as wind pushed itself down the chimney. the hot air mingled with the cold air, creating an equilibrium of temperature in the hufflepuff common room. y/n and cedric were the only ones in the common room, the other hufflepuffs vacating hours ago to get some much needed rest.
y/n listened to the sound of the roaring wind battering against the walls of the castle. the crackle of the fire place added to the loud ambience of the wind and the quiet huffs of annoyance that y/n and cedric both emitted. they were sat on one of the couches. y/n was hunched over a scroll of parchment, her legs draped across cedric’s lap. cedric was reading some book a first year left on the table. he was waiting for his girlfriend to finish her report so they could finally spend some time together. y/n sighed heavily with frustration when a particularly loud crackle of wood shocked her out of her trance. the sudden noise caused her ink dipped quill to move a little to far to the left, crossing out an important bit of information.
hot tears of frustration pricked the corner of her eyes as she stared helplessly at the parchment, the fire’s light dancing across her vision. a tear slipped out against her wishes, and she furiously wiped it away with the sleeve of cedric’s knit sweater that she had stolen months ago. the sudden movement pulled cedric’s attention from whatever book he was immersed in and he looked over at her. his eyes softened when he saw y/n trying to keep her emotions in check, tears almost overflowing from her big eyes.
“okay that’s enough of this,” cedric whispered delicately, pulling the parchment from y/n’s grasp. he set it on the table in front of him, ignoring y/n’s protests. “come here, love.”
y/n moved so she was curled into cedric’s side. his arms wrapped around her, tugging her closer to him. she relished in the feeling of warmth that he provided. no fire could ever rival the warmth washing over her. no fire could ever feel like home. the warmth she felt from cedric could keep her warm in the middle of a snow snowstorm, surrounded by trees in the middle of nowhere. no fire could instantly melt her worries and stress away as if they were ice chips on a hot summers day.
cedric whispered to her, “it’s okay, love. no need to be stressed.”
looking up at cedric’s face, she felt her breath escape her lungs. his features were illuminated by the orange flames. his normally grey eyes reflected the bright orange fire as he looked down at her. the normally brown hair that rested on the top of his head had turned somewhat blonde. in the moment, she was sure that he was not of this world. that even in this world of magic they were both surrounded by, he was by far the most enchanting person to ever walk the halls of hogwarts.
and in the hufflepuff common room, with the wind roaring and the fire crackling, with the only light being the now dying fire and the warmth being provided by cedric, she was one hundred percent positive that he was the person she wanted to spend every waking minute with.
Summary: At the Yule Ball, Barty Crouch Jr.’s jealousy erupts into a fight, leading to a bruised confession of love and one stolen dance in the Slytherin common room.
I tried something new! Each divider sections off a switch in POV (reader to barty)— it’s subtle and made sense when I read it back, so I hope it works!
I had so much fun writing this one— I hope you enjoy!! ♥︎
♥︎ Xo, pauper
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
The Hufflepuff common room at Christmastime felt like stepping into a storybook. Garlands of holly and evergreen draped from the carved beams of the ceiling, the fire roared golden and bright, and enchanted snowflakes drifted lazily through the air without ever melting on your skin. Someone had even spelled the record player in the corner to cycle through soft carols; every now and then, the needle gave a scratchy pop that made the room feel even homier.
You curled deeper into the corner of the sofa, mug of hot cocoa balanced between your palms, watching the flames dance.
“You’re sulking.” Liz plopped down beside you, her dark curls bouncing, cheeks flushed from the chilly corridors. She tugged a blanket over her legs and gave you a sly little smirk. “Don’t deny it. You’ve got sulk written all over your face.”
“I’m not sulking,” you said, though your tone was unconvincing.
“Mm, she totally is,” Willow chimed in from the armchair, sprawled sideways with her legs dangling over one arm. She had her Herbology textbook open on her lap, though she clearly wasn’t reading it. Her green eyes gleamed with mischief as she poked: “She’s waiting for a certain someone to grow a pair and ask her to the Yule Ball.”
You nearly choked on your cocoa. “I am not!”
Liz laughed, nudging your shoulder. “Please. You’ve been mooning after Crouch Jr. since the second year of Uni. Don’t think we haven’t noticed how your quill slips whenever he walks by.”
Your ears warmed instantly, and you ducked your face into your mug. “He’s… he’s just a friend,” you mumbled.
“Mm-hm. A friend you’d like to kiss under the enchanted mistletoe, maybe?” Willow teased.
You threw a pillow at her, which she caught with a cackle.
The truth was heavier, sweeter, and harder to admit out loud: you wanted Barty Crouch to ask you. You wanted it desperately. It didn’t even matter if he only asked you as a friend, or if the dance was just another excuse to whirl under the candles of the Great Hall. You just wanted him. His clever, cutting humor, the way his blue eyes sharpened like steel whenever he was riled up, the chaos that seemed to hum just beneath his skin— paired, somehow, with the rare moments of softness he revealed only when he thought no one was watching.
But he hadn’t asked. Not yet.
And the ball was only a week away.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
The Slytherin common room was colder than Hufflepuff’s, all shadows and green firelight, but Barty had always liked it better that way. He slouched in an armchair, spinning a silver ring between his fingers as Rabastan Lestrange and Evan Rosier debated over which Ravenclaw had the best chance of winning the dueling tournament. Their voices faded to static in his ears; he couldn’t focus.
He was thinking of you. Again.
He’d caught glimpses of you earlier that day on the way to Charms: laughing with your friends, scarf loose around your neck, cheeks pink from the winter wind. You hadn’t seen him, but he’d seen you. Merlin, he always saw you.
And he wanted— oh, he wanted— to be the one to ask you to the Yule Ball.
It should have been simple. He was Barty Crouch, for God’s sake, bold and sharp and unafraid of anything. Expect, apparently, to ask you one single question.
Every time he worked himself up to it— every time he rehearsed the words in his head— something in him faltered. Because what if you said no? What if you didn’t want him, not in that way? What if you preferred the golden Gryffindor boys who swanned about the castle with their broad smiles and loud jokes?
He gritted his teeth, twisting the ring tighter around his finger. He wasn’t a coward. He wasn’t.
So why did the thought of asking you feel like the most terrifying thing in the world?
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
The library was quieter than usual that afternoon, most students off decorating for the holidays or sneaking Butterbeer in their dormitories. A handful of enchanted candles floated overhead, dripping wax that never hit the floor, their light soft and golden against the rows of books. You sat at a long oak table, quill scratching lazily across your parchment as you worked half-heartedly on your Transfiguration essay.
Your thoughts kept drifting. To pink silk, to music swelling in the Great Hall, to Barty— always Barty.
You didn’t hear the chair scrape back until someone dropped into the seat across from you.
“Hey babe,” said Callum Davies, a broad-shouldered Gryffindor you’d worked with in Herbology once. His grin was boyish, easy, the kind that came with no nerves attached. “You going to the Ball next week?”
Your quill froze.
“I—I’m not sure yet,” you hedged, heat blooming at your collar.
He leaned forward on his elbows. “Come with me, then. We’ll have a laugh, yeah?”
For a moment, your heart surged with hope— irrational, reckless hope— that he meant Barty. That somehow, impossible, the words had slipped out of the wrong mouth.
But it wasn’t Barty. And your silence stretched too long.
So you smiled— small, resigned, and slightly uncomfortable— and said, “All right. Yes.”
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Later, back in your dormitory, Liz practically shrieked when you told her.
“You said yes to Callum Davies?!” She clutched her pillow dramatically. “Oh, honey! What about Barty?”
Willow only hummed, twisting her hair into a braid. “She can’t wait forever, Liz. If Barty can’t be arsed to ask her, then someone else will.”
You tried to laugh it off, smoothing the covers of your bed. “It’s fine. I’ll still have fun. It’s not like… like I had any other offers.”
But your chest ached anyway, sharp and hollow.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
He heard about it the next morning in the Slytherin common room.
“Oi, Crouch, did you hear? Davies scored himself a date to the ball,” Evan said with a smirk, tossing a chess piece into the air and catching it again. “Lucky bastard’s taking your girl.”
The words hit Barty like a punch to the gut.
“What?” His voice came out sharper than he meant, and he covered it but leaning back in his chair, pretending nonchalance.
“Yeah,” Rabatsan chimed in, grinning. “Saw him bragging in the corridor. Said she agreed on the spot. Sweet girl, that one. Can’t say I blame him.”
The boys laughed, their voices distant and tinny in Barty’s ears. All he could see was you— laughing in that soft way of yours, saying yes to someone else.
Not him.
Never him.
He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug crescents into his palms.
Stupid. He was so bloody stupid. He should have asked. He should have swallowed the fear, pride, the sharp taste of vulnerability, and just asked. And now… now he’d have to stand there in the glittering Great Hall and watch Callum bloody Davis put his hands on you.
Over his dead body.
He was going to the Ball. Not for the music, not for the lights, not even for the fun. He was going because if you were going to walk into that hall on another man’s arm, then he needed to be there too.
He needed to see you. He needed to make sure you were all right. He needed… something.
Anything.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
The Great Hall had been transformed.
The long tables were gone, replaced by round ones draped in white linens, their centers glowing with bowls of enchanted ice that shimmered in rainbow hues. The ceiling was bewitched with a midnight sky: velvet dark, scattered with constellations, and delicate snow falling endlessly. Garlands of holly looped around the pillars, mistletoe dangled in dangerous spots, and an orchestra swarmed to play themselves filled the air with lilting strings.
You lingered outside the doors with Liz and Willow, your hands trembling in your gloves. They fussed over you, whispering spells to smooth your hair and tugging the skirt of your dress just right.
The dress had been hidden away in your trunk for weeks: soft silk in a shadow of baby pink that made your skin glow. Its bodice was trimmed with lace, the neckline modest but delicate, the skirt flowing in airy layers that brushed your ankles. Your hair, pulled into a messy bun high on your head, had been threaded with pearls that glimmered like droplets of frost. You hardly recognized yourself in the mirror; it felt like stepping into a fairytale.
Liz clasped her hands dramatically. “You look like you just walked out of painting!”
“Out of his wildest dreams, more like,” Willow muttered under her breath, grinning.
You shushed them both, cheeks burning. Still, when Callum offered his arm and guided you inside, you couldn’t help but hope— just a little— that someone else was watching.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
He was watching.
The moment you crossed the threshold of the hall, Barty’s breath caught like he was hexed.
Merlin, you were beautiful.
No— beautiful wasn’t the word. You were devastating. You were luminous, every inch of you glowing like a star. The pearls in your hair, the soft blush of your dress, the curve of your smile when you laughed nervously at something Davies said— it was all too much. Too much for him to look at, too much to bear.
Rabastan elbowed him. “Oi, Crouch, close your mouth before you swallow a Snitch.”
He snapped his jaw shut, scowling to hide the way his pulse thundered.
You were radiant, and you weren’t his. That was the wound. That was the knife.
As Davies twirled you onto the dance floor, Barty felt something raw and acidic coil in his stomach. He loathed the way the Gryffindor’s hand sat possessively at your waist, the way he bent close to whisper in your ear. You smiled politely, but Barty knew that smile. That wasn’t the real one. That wasn’t the laugh you gave when you were truly happy.
His fists clenched at his sides. He forced himself to stay near the edges with the other Slytherin, pretending to be amused by Evan’s sharp commentary on everyone’s outfits. Pretending he didn’t care. Pretending he wasn’t imagining, with every second that passed, how different it could have been.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
The ball should have been enchanting. It was, in some ways— the music swelled like a heartbeat, the floor gleamed beneath the light of floating stars, laughter bubbled all around you. But something inside you was restless, unsettled.
Callum was perfectly fine. He told jokes, he spun you clumsily on the dance floor, he fetched you drinks. But it all felt thin, like drinking watered-down pumpkin juice. He wasn’t who you wanted.
And every time you caught a flicker of Barty Crouch across the hall— leaning against a pillar, his black dress robes crisp and elegant, his gaze burning and unreadable— you felt the ache sharpen.
Liz and Willow waved from their table when you passed by, both of them making exaggerated heart shapes with their hands. You laughed, rolling your eyes, but your heart wasn’t in it.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
He couldn’t take his eyes off you. He tried— God, he tried— but every time Davies laid a hand on you, something inside Barty’s chest twisted tighter.
You looked perfect. Too perfect. And he knew he’d never forgive himself for being too much of a coward to ask you.
The night stretched on. The music changed. The stars overhead shifted. But Barty’s jealousy only grew sharper, simmering like a curse beneath his ribs.
And then— he heard it.
Davies, swaggering back from the drinks table with a few Gryffindor mates, laughing too loudly. His voice carried easily over the music.
“She’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she? Told you she’d be an easy shag.”
The world went white-hot.
Barty saw red.
The words scorched through him like fire. Easy shag.
He didn’t remember standing. One second he was at the table with his friends, knuckles white around his glass of firewhiskey punch, and the next he was moving— no thought, no hesitation, just raw fury tearing through him like lightning.
Davies barely had time to laugh again before Barty’s fist cracked against his jaw.
Gasps rippled across the hall, music screeching to a halt as the self-playing violins hit a sour note. Davies staggered back, clutching his face, eyes wide in drunken shock.
“What the—“
But Barty wasn’t done. He lunged again, shoving him into the wall, landing another punch square across his nose. Blood spurted, bright against Davies’ robes.
“You filthy bastard,” Barty snarled, his voice hoarse, guttural. “Say that about her again. Go on. Say it.”
Davies swung back, wild and clumsy, landing a blow against Barty’s cheekbone. Pain flashed white, but Barty barely felt it. Rage was all he felt, rage and the image of your soft smile, your pearls, your kindess— dragged through the muck by someone who didn’t deserve to speak your name.
The crowd was shouting now, professors trying to push through.
And then—
“Barty!”
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Your voice cut through everything like a spell.
You hadn’t even realized what was happening until the crowd parted and you saw him—Barty, his pale face splattered with blood, knuckles raw, his body hunched like an animal over Callum Davies.
Your stomach dropped.
“Stop!” You pushed forward, grabbing his arm just as he raised his fist again. His skin was hot, trembling under your grip. “Barty! Barty!”
For one wild moment, you weren’t sure he’d hear you. His eyes were blazing, feral, teeth bared like he didn’t recognize the hall, the music, anyone at all.
But then his gaze snapped to yours. And something softened.
His breathing came ragged, his lip split and bleeding, his left eye already bruising purple. He blinked, once, like waking from a nightmare.
“Come with me.” Your voice shook, but you tugged hard on his arm. “Now.”
Behind you, Davies groaned, clutching his ruined nose. Professors were shouting, students gasping, Liz’s wide eyes meeting yours across the room. None of it mattered.
Only him.
You dragged Barty out of the hall before anyone could stop you. His steps stumbled, unsteady, but he followed—always following you.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
The castle corridors were cold, torchlight flickering against the stone as you half-dragged him through twisting passageways. He muttered curses under his breath, words you couldn’t even catch, but he didn’t resist.
Finally, you reached the section of wall that guarded the entrance to the Slytherin common room. You quickly uttered the Latin password and watched the doorway appear.
The room was empty, washed in eerie green light from the fire in the hearth, the lake pressing darkly against the high windows. Shadows draped the walls, long and wavering.
You spun to face him, chest heaving.
“What were you thinking?” you burst out, voice sharp with panic. “Brawling in the middle of the Ball? Everyone saw, Barty!”
He only laughed, low and bitter, spitting blood onto the rug. “Don’t care. He deserved worse.”
“You’re bleeding,” you snapped, and before he could argue you grabbed his hand, tugging him down onto one of the sofas near the fire. His knuckles were split and raw, his lip torn, blood trickling steadily from his nose. He looked a mess—beautiful, furious, devastatingly alive.
Your hands trembled as you summoned a basin of water and a cloth with a whispered spell.
“Stay still,” you murmured, dabbing gently at the blood on his cheek. He hissed, but didn’t pull away.
And that’s when he broke.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Your hands were so soft. Too soft for someone like him.
Every brush of the cloth against his skin was a reminder: he wasn’t supposed to have this. He wasn’t supposed to have you.
“You don’t know what he said,” Barty rasped, voice raw. His eyes burned, not from the split lip or the bruise swelling beneath his eye, but from the storm inside his chest.
You froze, cloth poised above his cheek. “…What did he say?”
He swallowed hard, jaw clenching. “He called you—” His voice cracked with fury. “He called you an easy shag. Like you’re nothing. Like you’re just—”
Your breath caught.
“I couldn’t let him—” His voice faltered, then broke entirely. “I couldn’t let him talk about you like that. Not you. Never you.”
His hands gripped the edge of the sofa so tightly the leather creaked. “I wanted to be the one. To ask you. To take you. I was too bloody scared, and then—then I saw you with him and it was like I’d lost everything I never even had. And I’d never—God, I’d never treat you like that. I—”
His voice dropped, raw and ragged. “I love you. I’m madly, completely in love with you.”
The fire crackled, casting shadows across his ruined face, and for the first time all night, he looked terrified.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
For a moment, the world held its breath.
Barty Crouch Jr.—bruised and bloody, hair falling into his wild blue eyes—had just spilled his heart onto the floor of the Slytherin common room, and you could barely remember how to breathe.
“I…” Your throat tightened, words catching. You dipped the cloth back into the water, pressing it gently against his split lip. He flinched, then stilled.
“You’re an idiot,” you whispered, voice breaking with equal parts fury and tenderness. “A reckless, hot-tempered, bloody idiot.”
His laugh was rough, bitter. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
You shook your head, blinking back the prick of tears. “You think I wanted Callum Davies? I only said yes because—because you never asked. I waited for you, Barty. I wanted you to ask.”
The admission left your lips trembling.
He stared at you, frozen, as if you’d just spoken a charm to stop time. His bruised eye was already swelling, but the other… Merlin, the way he looked at you. Like you’d just set the stars alight.
“You—wanted me?” His voice cracked. He sounded boyish suddenly, uncertain in a way you’d never heard before.
“Of course I did.” You smoothed the cloth over his cheek, your fingers grazing his skin. “I don’t care if you’re chaos and trouble and bloody impossible half the time. You’re…” You swallowed. “You’re you. And I love you for it.”
The silence stretched, the fire hissing softly in the hearth.
Then his hand came up—hesitant, trembling—and wrapped around your wrist. His thumb brushed your pulse, feeling how fast it raced.
“Say it again,” he whispered, desperate.
Your lips curved into a trembling smile. “I love you, Barty Crouch.”
That was it. That was the breaking point.
He leaned forward, and you met him halfway. His lips were split and tasted faintly of copper, but you didn’t care—you kissed him anyway, slow and searching, his breath shuddering against your mouth. His hand tangled in your hair, careful of the pearls, and you pressed closer until there was no space between you.
When you finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against yours, his laugh shaky and disbelieving.
“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured.
“Maybe not,” you teased softly, brushing your thumb against his bruised cheek. “But you’ve got me anyway.”
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
He thought he might be dreaming. The blood still dripped down his chin, his knuckles still burned raw, his head throbbed with pain—but none of it mattered. None of it touched him. Because you were here. You were kissing him, touching him, saying the words he’d ached to hear for years.
“I’d give you anything,” he breathed. “Anything you asked. Just—please. Before this night is over, let me have one dance. Just one. With you.”
Your laugh was soft, incredulous. “Here? In the common room?”
He nodded, wild hair falling into his eyes. “Here. With no one watching. Just us.”
And somehow, it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever asked you.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
You stood, smoothing your dress, holding out your hand. “Then come on, Crouch. Don’t make me dance alone.”
He rose slowly, his movements a little stiff from the fight, but when he took your hand, his grip was warm and sure.
There was no music, save for the crackle of the green fire and the soft rush of the Black Lake pressing against the windows. But it was enough. You swayed together in the dim light, your skirts whispering against the stone floor, his arms circling your waist.
Barty bent his head, pressing his face against your hair. He inhaled, shaky, as if trying to memorize the scent of you. His voice was low, raw, almost reverent.
“You’re everything I’ll ever want. Everything.”
Your heart melted. You rested your head against his chest, listening to the thunder of his heartbeat, and whispered back, “Then don’t let go.”
A flight across the pond pt. 1— (Fred Weasley x fem!reader)
Summary: You're on your first flight and it is 12 hours long and Ginny falls asleep before you even take off.
Warnings: fear of flights, mentions of death, slight panic attack, lemme know if I missed any!
XO, Princess 🎀
dividers by @saradika-graphics, go check them out!
Why did you even say yes to going on vacation with Ginny's family? You hate planes. And now that you're boarding one, you realise that it's 3 to a row and there are 8 of you, so you and Ginny are stuck with Fred, at least it isn't George. This is the only trip you've ever taken on a plane, so when the Pilot announces take off, and Ginny is already fast asleep, how does she do that? , you have no other option than to take Fred’s hand,
“Woah what are you doing?” Fred whispers to you, not understanding how much you're freaking out
“Please, I hate planes, and take off is the deadliest part and Ginny is asleep” you practically beg Fred and squeeze his hand tighter as the plane starts moving. Shit shit shit.
“Y/N it’s okay, we're just driving right now, like in a car, we won’t take off for another couple of minutes. Don’t be so paranoid”
“Ugh, you're so frustrating, just hold my hand so I don't start screaming on this plane and embarrass you.”
“Okay, okay” he says, putting his free arm up in surrender “fine… but you’re a baby.” he teases you, trying to make you laugh but you're too preoccupied by trying not to die, and thinking about why you even accepted their invitation to go to America in the first place. Because you're a good friend. And Mr. Weasley’s obsession with rubber ducks, rollercoasters, and those random people that dress up in the middle of Times Square.
“We have been cleared to take off.” the overhead speaker blared.
You squeezed your eyes shut as hard as you could and pushed your feet into the ground, and Fred’s hand was definitely losing feeling with how hard you were gripping it.
Fred started circling his thumb around your skin and you focused on that feeling instead of the thought of being launched in the air, without any control. He kept holding your hand, and rubbing it with his thumb, soothing you as much as he could without pulling too much attention.
Does he like me? Why is he holding my hand back? I don't like him… I don't!
Once the plane flattened out and wasn't pushing you into your seat and making you feel like you were going to crash and die, you loosened your grip on Fred’s hand, but he didn't move, he held on tighter. You looked over to him to see why, and he was already looking at you with a smile on his face,
“Make sure next time you try to hold my hand to check what it has in it first” he said as he started laughing.
You picked up your hand and a splatter of sticky gooey slime? gum? Something was all over your hand, that damn trickster.
“Oh ha ha Fred” you said as you tried to rub it off onto him, you had a better idea. You reach over the seat where Geroge was sitting and spread the gooey shit all over his face.
“Damn y/n that's even better” Fred laughs out, almost losing his breath and holding his stomach.
This is going to be a series of Arthur Weasley and the fam going to various places in NYC and America and discovering what Muggles do across the pond!
A flight across the pond pt. 2: Times Square— (Fred x fem!reader)
Hi everyone! Sorry this took a hot sec life got busy. I hope you enjoy, I had a ton of fun writing it and will def continue this series
Summary: Mr. Weasley gets a tad too excited about the performers in Times Square
Warnings: costumed people, tall buildings,
Dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics ♥︎
“Good Morning, y/n.” Ginny poked you in the side, voice way too cheery for how early it was.
“Ughhh… five more minutes,” you groaned, refusing to open your eyes.
She tugged at your arm. “Nope! Everyone’s already down at breakfast. If you don’t get up right now, I’m leaving you here alone.”
That was enough to jolt you into sitting upright. You stumbled into a messy bun, slipped on your yellow sundress …would Fred like it? No. No. You don’t care. You shoved a couple things into your bag, and followed Ginny out the door.
By the time you got to the breakfast table, the only open seats were right next to Fred. Ginny slid in beside Harry, leaving you no choice. Perfect. Just perfect.
George leaned across his twin the moment you sat down. “I got all that gunk off my face, in case you were wondering.”
You raised a brow, unamused. “Good. Take it up with your twin.” A pointed eye roll to really drive home your disinterest.
Mr. Weasley cleared his throat from the head of the table, grinning like a kid in Honeydukes. “Good morning! Today we’re off to explore this ‘Times Square.’ I hear we might even meet a spider man who swings from buildings, just like in the films the young Muggles enjoy!”
Ginny stifled a laugh and leaned in to whisper, “Oh Merlin. This will be a disaster.”
It didn’t take long for her to be right.
The moment you all hit Times Square, skyscrapers towered over you, neon screens blindingly bright. You were still staring up when Fred’s arm brushed your waist, pulling you out of traffic.
“Careful, y/n. Try walking in a straight line, yeah?” he muttered, smirk tugging at his lips.
“Maybe try not shoving me into strangers, yeah?” you snapped back, but your face was a little warmer than it should’ve been.
Before you could even recover, Ginny grabbed you by the wrist. “Come on, Dad’s about to interview Spider-Man!”
And sure enough—Mr. Weasley was already surrounded by two Spider-Men, a gorilla, Mickey, and Minnie, happily shaking hands and asking questions, notebook in hand like he was conducting an official Ministry report.
“Oh, Merlin,” you muttered as Ron threw some crumpled bills at the performers and yanked his dad out of the crowd.
“I was learning their routine!” Mr. Weasley protested. “They arrive at eight every morning, take photos with tourists… and apparently Mickey lives in Staten Island, not in that clubhouse on the big screen.”
“Fascinating,” Fred cut in quickly, steering his father toward the Disney Store before he could run back. “You’ll probably find more… er, ‘research material’ in there.”
The group shuffled inside. You were about to head after Ginny when Fred fell into step beside you, grin already spreading.
“Gonna pull any tricks on me today?” you asked, unable to stop the teasing lilt in your voice.
Fred’s eyes glinted. “I’ve got a few. But honestly, you’re so good at walking into them, why would I waste the surprise?”
Before you could answer, Ginny’s voice carried across the store:
“Y/n! I found the cutest little frog plush!”
You pretended to roll your eyes as you walked over, but you couldn’t ignore the fact that Fred was still watching you, grin lingering like he’d already pulled a trick without you noticing.
